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BOOK    398.2.SK34    c.  1 

SKINNER    #    MYTHS    AND    LEGENDS 

BEYOND    OUR    BORDERS 


3  T153  D012MZb3  7 

Wflbur  L.  Cross  Library 

University  of  Connecticut 


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MRS.  ABRAHAM  RATFIELD 


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Myths  and  Legends 
Beyond  Our  Borders 


BY  CHARLES  M.  SKINNER 
¥ 

Myths  and  Legends  of  Our  Own  Land 
Illustrated.  Two  volumes.  i2mo.  Buck- 
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Myths  and  Legends  Beyond  Our  Borders 
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Myths  and  Legends  of  North  America 
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Copyright,  1898 


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SHE  TO  WHOM  I  OFFER  THESE  LEGENDS 
IS  IN  HER  ART  SO  CONVINCING,  SO 
POETIC,  IN  HER  LIFE  SO  KIND,  THAT  I 
HESITATE  TO  PRESENT  A  WORK  THAT 
MIGHT  VEX  HER  BY  ITS  FAULTS.  YET 
IN  HER  CHARITY  I  KNOW  SHE  WILL 
NOT     LOOK      FOR     THEM.  HENCE,     I 

DEDICATE    THIS     BOOK    TO    MAUD 


$)ttfa« 


THE  kind  reception  given  to  the  author's  book 
of  legends  pertaining  to  the  United  States 
has  been  an  incentive  to  continue  the  work  in  the 
same  field,  and  herewith  is  offered  a  volume  of  tra- 
dition from  Canada  and  Mexico,  thus  covering 
the  North  American  continent.  A  need  of  brevity- 
has  made  it  advisable  to  keep  to  the  method  fol- 
lowed in  "  Myths  and  Legends  of  Our  Own  Land," 
of  assembling  traditions  that  attach  to  places,  rather 
than  attempting  to  set  forth  the  almost  exhaustless, 
always  verbose,  and  sometimes  childish  folk-lore 
of  the  aborigines.  Simple  people,  red  people,  and 
habitants,  not  readers,  not  logicians,  not  examiners, 
accept  these  tales  from  their  old  men  and  treasure 
them.  Others  may  find  amusement  in  them,  and 
perhaps  profit ;  for,  ingenuous  as  they  are,  they 
sometimes  symbolize  high  truths. 


Cafile  of  Contents! 

Ganafca  page 

Explorers  and  Aborigines 17 

Myths  of  Creation,  Heaven,  and  Hell 22 

Glooslcap  at  Menagwes 34 

The  Dogs  of  Clote  Scaurp 35 

The  Missions 37 

—  A  Few  Monsters 44 

Some  Names 49 

Troubles  on  the  St.  Lawrence 55 

American  Elephants 63 

Hidden  Gold 66 

How  one  Bear  lost  his  Life 72 

^J- The  Isle  of  Demons 74 

The  Figure  in  Smoky  Hut 77 

The  Shadow  of  Holland  Cove 81 

The  Friar  of  Campobello 83 

Two  Melicite  Victories 85 

The  Flame  Sloop  of  Caraquette 88 

The  Acadians  and  Evangeline 91 

The  Tolling  off  Gaspe 94 

The  Ride  to  Death 96 

The  General  with  an  Ear 100 

The  Defence  of  St.  John 101 

Brother  and  Sister  in  Battle 105 

The  Golden  Dog 107 

The  Grave  in  the  Cellar no 

The  Mountain  and  the  See 113 

The  Sin  of  Father  St.  Bernard 114 

Larouche  had  his  Wish 118 

The  Heart  of  Frontenac 120 

The  Devil  Dance  on  Orleans 122 

9 


Contents 

PAGE 

The  Defiance  at  Elora 126 

The  Miracles  of  Sainte  Anne 129 

Tadousac  Bell  at  Midnight 134 

The  Bell  of  Caughnawaga 137 

The  Massacre  at  Bic 1 39 

The  Doom  of  Mamelons 141 

The  Revenge  of  Hudson 143 

Kenen's  Sacrifice 146 

The  Calling  of  Zoe  de  Mersac 149 

The  Headless  Deserters 153 

The  Devil's  Head 155 

Father  Jacques's  Vengeance 157 

The  Bonnechere  Affair 161 

He  went  back  for  his  Gun 165 

Kwasind,  the  Strong 166 

The  Curse  of  Success 168 

The  Death  of  Wahwun 172 

The  Devil's  Half-Acre 174 

Medicine  Hat 176 

Ghost  Woman  at  the  Blood  Camp 178 

The  Blackfoot  Eden 180 

The  Wicked  Wife 183 

Fourth  of  July  at  Yale 185 

Death  of  the  Great  Beaver 187 

Why  the  Mountains  were  made 189 

The  Place  of  Dead  Men 191 

How  the  Indians  became  Red 193 

The  Pool  of  Destruction 194 

Yehl,  the  Light-Maker 196 

The  Shelter  of  Edgecumbe 198 

How  Selfishness  was  punished       199 

The  Ghost  of  Sitka  Castle 202 

A  Fatal  Rivalry 204 

Bad  Boys  of  Na-as  River 207 

The  Baffled  Ice  God 208 

10 


Contents 

tKlCXtCO  PAGE 

White  Visitors  before  Columbus 213 

—  The  White  God 217 

Spiritual  Guidance 225 

Eagle,  Snake,  and  Cactus 231 

Told  in  Yucatan 233 

Our  Lady  of  Guadalupe 239 

Our  Lady  of  the  Remedies 242 

Some  other  Miracles 244 

The  Picture  and  the  Storm 246 

The  Mischievous  Cocktail 247 

The  Councillors  of  Lagos 250 

The  Humpback  of  Colima 253 

Why  Cholula  Pyramid  was  built 255 

The  Ark  on  Colhuacan 257 

Making  the  Sun 259 

The  Popul  Vuh 261 

Fathers  of  the  Miztecs 264 

The  Willing  Captive 266 

The  Death-Dance  of  Tezcatlipoca 268 

Other  Wiles  of  the  Evil  God 272 

The  Aztec  Tannh9user 274 

Huitzilopochtli 276 

The  War-God  takes  a  Bride 279 

El  Dorado 280 

The  Dwarf's  House 283 

Why  Valdez  bought  Prayers 285 

Father  Jose's  Love 288 

The  Devil  in  Prison 292 

The  Alligator-Tree 294 

Evil  Spirits  in  the  Springs 296 

Devils  and  Doubloons 299 

Incidents  of  War 301 

Gambling  Away  the  Sun 304 

Huascar's  Prophecy 305 

11 


Contents 

PAGB 

The  Medal  and  the  Orchid 3°7 

The  Honest  Muleteers 3IQ 

Aiguerre's  Fire 3X3 

The  Amazons 3X5 

Bolivar  at  Caracas 3l6 


12 


Illustrations 

Chapultepec Frontispiece 

The  Church  at  Tadousac Page     134 

Medicine  Hat,  Assiniboia "        176 

Popocatepetl "        229 


Canatra 


Myths  and  Legends  Beyond 
Our  Borders 

EXPLORERS   AND   ABORIGINES 

CANADA,  from  its  earliest  settlement,  has  been 
to  most  white  Americans  a  dark,  cool  land 
of  mystery.  Only  since  its  railroads  joined  East 
and  West  together,  since  the  frontier  settlements  of 
the  last  generation  developed  into  cities,  since  the 
farming  districts  of  the  prairie  began  to  draw  their 
hardy  populace  from  older  lands,  has  it  become 
known  to  our  southern  millions  that  it  is  a  coun- 
try differing  in  little  from  their  own,  the  same  in 
speech  and  spirit,  akin  in  laws  and  faith  and  man- 
ners. The  history  of  the  republic  and  that  of  the 
colony  were  the  same  down  to  the  time  of  the  Revo- 
lution, yet  Canada's  northern  position,  its  settle- 
ment by  the  French,  the  individuality  of  its  native 
tribes,  its  exploration  by  missionaries,  its  imagined 
remoteness,  gave  rise  to  tales  that,  while  not  veri- 
fied, had  reason  for  being.  The  history  of  the 
province  is  full  of  romance.  The  legends  that 
have  grown  from  it  compel  the  attention  no  more 
than  the  tales  of  conquest,  diplomacy,  daring,  and 
difficulty,  and  those  new  reports  of  wealth  on  the 
2  17 


Myths  and  Legends 

Yukon.  Many  of  the  unwritten  tales  run  counter 
to  record,  others  so  merge  in  it  that  it  is  impossible 
to  separate  them,  but,  as  they  have  character,  ro- 
mance, humor,  or  quaintness,  they  deserve  to  be 
saved  from  the  assaults  of  commercialism  and  com- 
monplace. 

Long  before  the  time  of  Cabot,  Cartier,  Roberval, 
Champlain,  and  Hudson,  Canada  was  known,  in 
Norse  tradition,  and  it  is  claimed  that  Basque  and 
Breton  fishermen  caught  cod  on  the  Grand  Banks 
a  century  before  Columbus's  day.  Canada  was  the 
first  part  of  America  to  be  discovered,  and  Bjarne 
Herjulfsson,  son  of  an  Icelander  who  had  moved  to 
Greenland,  reached  Cape  Breton  in  the  year  986, 
while  trying  to  join  his  father  in  his  new  home. 
Fourteen  years  later  Leif  Ericsson,  son  of  the  Ice- 
landic jarl,  Eric  the  Red,  tried  to  find  this  new  land. 
It  is  not  known  exactly  where  he  went  ashore,  but 
Labrador  was  first  sighted :  Helluland,  he  called 
it;  "  a  country  of  no  advantages."  Next  he  passed 
Markland,  with  its  flat  beaches  and  its  woods :  Nova 
Scotia  ?  And  Vinland,  which  is  any  place  you 
please,  was  last  explored.  Somewhere,  possibly  on 
the  Penobscot,  was  the  city  of  crystal  and  silver, 
Norumbega,  Norombega,  Norumbeque,  and  may- 
be Aranbega,  Arambek,  and  Lorembek.  New- 
foundland, oldest  of  the  British  colonies,  was  one 
of  the  first  regions  that  seemed  to  promise  wealth, 
for  it  did  not  take  the  explorers  long  to  find 
that   its  waters   swarmed   with   fish.      Indeed,  the 

18 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

Portuguese  name  of  Bacalhaos,  long  borne  by  New- 
foundland, means  codfish.  Nor  was  Labrador 
without  its  promise  in  the  eyes  of  those  same  Por- 
tuguese, for  the  name,  which  is  in  their  tongue, 
means  laborer.  (It  is  not  Le  Bras  d'Or,  the  arm 
of  gold,  for  Cape  Breton  has  its  Bras  d'Or.)  "  King 
Emanuel,  having  heard  of  the  high  trees  growing 
in  the  northern  countries,  and  having  seen  the  abo- 
rigines, who  appeared  so  well  qualified  for  labor, 
thought  he  had  found  a  new  slave-coast  like  that 
which  he  owned  in  Africa,  and  dreamed  of  the  tall 
masts  he  would  cut  and  the  men-of-war  he  would 
build  from  the  forests."  Mistaken  man !  The 
power  of  the  Latin  races  in  North  America  was 
brief,  and  it  left  few  marks  in  comparison  with  that 
of  the  Anglo  Saxons  who  so  soon  possessed  the 
land  and  who  almost  alone  have  made  it  what  it 
is.  Though  racked  by  frequent  wars  in  those  dark 
times,  the  country  advanced  a  little  after  every 
struggle,  and  the  builders  of  air-castles,  the  founders 
of  visionary  empires,  were  jostled  aside  if  they 
loitered  in  the  way  of  progress. 

The  Indians  themselves  throw  little  light  on  their 
own  history,  and  if  facts  were  originally  embodied 
in  their  fantastic  myths,  the  forms  of  these  parables 
have  in  almost  every  case  concealed  the  meanings. 
That  in  the  days  of  unwritten  history  there  were 
great  political  and  military  movements  there  is  no 
doubt, — movements  that  to  the  red  dwellers  in  this 
land  were  as  momentous  as  the  wars  and  changes 

19 


Myths  and  Legends 

in  Europe  were  to  the  Greeks  and  Romans.  We 
have  reason  to  believe  that  men  existed  here  long 
before  the  last  of  the  North  American  glaciers,  and 
that  they  were  driven  toward  the  warm  belt  by 
its  advance ;  that  there  are  relations  between  the 
Alaskans  and  the  Aztecs  ;  that  the  Canadian  Indians 
drove  the  mound-builders  southward  six  hundred 
years  ago.  The  "  great  horned  snake"  of  Ontario, 
against  which  they  battled,  may  have  been  the  snake- 
shaped  forts  of  these  mound-makers,  like  those 
remaining  in  the  Ohio  Valley.  Their  man-god, 
Michabo,  or  Hiawatha,  "  drives  the  serpents  to 
the  south."  On  Moose  Mountain,  Assiniboia,  are 
cairns  with  lines  of  stones  radiating  from  them,  the 
early  work  of  mound-builders,  or  imitations  of  it  by 
their  conquerors,  who  relate  that  the  stones  were 
placed  there  by  the  spirit  of  the  winds. 

Various  theories  as  to  the  origin  of  the  Indians 
account  for  them  (i)  as  autochthonous,  or  self-cre- 
ated :  a  legitimate  theory,  since  the  geologic  age  of 
this  country  qualifies  it  to  have  been  not  merely  the 
original  land  of  the  Indians,  but  the  cradle  of  the 
human  race ;  (2)  as  members  of  the  lost  tribes  of 
Israel ;  (3)  as  survivors  of  the  sunken  continent  of 
Atlantis  ;  (4)  as  Phoenicians  ;  (5)  as  Carthaginians  ; 
(6)  as  Greeks  ;  (7)  as  Chinese,  who  reached  these 
shores  in  458  a.d.  ;  and  (8)  as  Mongols,  who  ar- 
rived in  the  thirteenth  century.  The  latter  theory, 
which  would  have  assumed  the  peopling  of  a  vast 
continent  in  a  couple  of  hundred  years,  is  of  course 

20 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

absurd,  but  an  identity  of  certain  Canadian  and  cer- 
tain Asiatic  tribes  is  at  least  suggested  by  likeness  in 
their  beliefs  and  customs,  such  as  their  tribal  work 
and  government,  traditions,  religious  faiths,  supersti- 
tions, way  of  regarding  women,  treatment  of  guests, 
sacrifices,  burials,  funerals,  the  wearing  of  feathers, 
use  of  bark  utensils,  form  of  weapons,  dog  feasts, 
games,  emblems,  pipe-smoking,  serpent-worship, 
serpent-charming,  sacred  animals,  dances,  figures  of 
oratory,  and  monosyllabic  speech.  In  their  free, 
sane  life  the  physical  adequacy  of  the  Indians  should 
have  been  maintained,  and  there  is  no  reason  to  sup- 
pose that  as  a  family  they  have  deteriorated,  in  spite 
of  the  allegation  that  in  the  Ontario  government 
park,  at  Rondeau,  Lake  Erie,  the  skeletons  of  well- 
proportioned  men  seven  and  one-half  feet  high  have 
been  unearthed.  The  later  history  of  the  red  race  is 
too  familiar  to  recount,  and  it  is  most  sad.  When 
some  royal  commissioners  in  eastern  Canada  had  the 
audacity  to  ask  a  native  chief  what  claim  his  people 
had  to  the  country,  he  replied  only,  "  There  lie 
our  grandfathers ;  there  lie  our  fathers ;  there  lie 
our  children.'*  To  the  first  settlers  the  idea  that 
the  savage  could  be  a  creature  of  sentiment  was 
preposterous,  and  that  he  should  wish  to  hold  his 
ancestral  woods  and  fields  no  less  so.  Bitter  has 
been  the  strife  that  has  driven  him  from  his  old 
estate.  He  is  an  outcast  in  his  own  land,  a  victim 
of  wrongs  uncounted  and  cruelties  as  dire  as  those 
with  which   he  has   retaliated   on   the  aggressors. 

21 


Myths  and  Legends 

But  he  is  not  what  so  many  have  painted  him.  In 
many  of  his  traditions  it  will  be  seen  that  he  has 
a  moral  sense  as  keen  as  any  one's,  and  courage  to 
live  to  it;  that  he  is  a  man. 


MYTHS   OF   CREATION,  HEAVEN,  AND 
HELL 

BELIEFS  touching  death,  the  spirit-world,  and 
the  hereafter  vary  with  the  different  tribes 
of  Canada,  and  some  of  them  have  undergone 
change  from  contact  with  missionaries.  Often  the 
merging-point  of  the  old  and  the  new  belief  is 
impossible  to  descry,  while  in  the  case  of  the 
teacher  who  came  across  the  Pacific  in  a  copper 
canoe,  preached  morality  to  the  shore  tribes,  was 
crucified,  arose,  resumed  preaching,  and  was  after- 
ward  obeyed,  we  find  a  blendingc^_t^_Cjhmst  his- 
tory and  the  Hiawatha  legend. 

The  Nootkas  in  their  version  of  this  tale  do 
not  include  either  crucifixion  or  resurrection.  On 
the  contrary,  they  assume  that  the  killing  of  the 
teacher  was  a  good  thing,  because  they  secured  his 
copper  canoe  and  paddles,  and  the  use  of  copper 
they  learned  at  that  time.  Some  of  the  great 
wooden  images  in  their  houses  represent  this 
teacher  who  promised  a  future  life.  Sheets  of 
copper  with  eyes  painted  on  them  have  been  seen 
at  Fort  Rupert,  and  are  thought  to  symbolize  the 
sun.     They  are  regarded  with  peculiar  reverence. 

22 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

In  a  Chippewayan  legend  the  first  country  was 
that  through  which  the  Copper-Mine  River  flows, 
and  the  ground  was  strewn  with  copper.  A  bird 
created  this  country, — avast  bird  whose  glance  was 
lightning,  and  thunder  the  shaking  of  his  wings. 
He  created  the  earth  by  touching  the  primal  ocean. 
The  first  men  wore  out  their  feet  with  walking  and 
their  throats  with  eating. 

Some  pretty  traditions  have  grown  from  the  im- 
planting of  a  new  faith  in  imaginative  soil.  The 
loose  quartz  crystals  found  near  Quebec  are  said  to 
be  Christ's  tears,  wept  upon  the  earth  for  the  sins 
of  its  people.  The  northern  lights,  which  among 
ungospelled  tribes  are  the  spirits  of  dead  friends 
dancing,  the  brighter  the  merrier,  have  turned  to 
angels,  throwing  down  snow  to  cool  the  parched 
in  hell.  An  Indian  who  was  discovered  on  all- 
fours  in  a  wood  near  Wardsville,  moving  softly 
over  the  snow,  was  at  first  suspected  of  mischief; 
but  he  was  only  waiting  to  see  the  deer  fall  on  their 
knees  before  the  Great  Spirit,  as  he  had  heard  they 
did  on  Christmas  night. 

Biblical  teaching  and  native  myth  are  queerly 
mixed  in  the  Ojibway  tale  of  the  beginning  of  the 
race,  which  they  say  occurred  at  Torch  Lake,  or 
Lac  du  Flambeau.  The  Great  Spirit  had  made 
the  vegetation  about  this  water,  and  was  surprised 
when  he  saw  a  creature  wallowing  through  the 
reeds  in  the  form  since  taken  by  men,  but  covered 
with  shining  scales  like   a  fish.     This  object  went 

23 


Myths  and  Legends 

mooning  about  in  such  a  mournful  fashion  that 
the  Manitou,  taking  pity  on  him,  made  a  woman, 
also  covered  with  scales,  and  breathed  life  into 
her.  He  told  her  to  wander  by  the  shore,  and 
presently  she  would  find  something  she  would  be 
sure  to  like.  The  man  found  her  while  she  slept, 
and,  rousing  her,  took  her  to  walk,  showing  where 
roots  and  herbs  grew  that  were  good  for  food. 
Her  name,  she  told  him,  was  Mani  (Mary  ?). 
He  took  her  to  his  spacious  lodge  and  went  with 
her  through  his  garden,  warning  her  not  to  eat 
fruit  from  a  certain  tree  that  grew  there.  When 
she  was  alone,  a  handsome  young  Indian  emerged 
mysteriously  from  the  tree  and  urged  her  to  pick 
and  eat  the  fruit,  adding  that  it  made  fine  pre- 
serves. She  ate,  and  persuaded  her  husband  to 
do  the  same.  The  scales  fell  from  their  bodies, 
and  they  drew  back  among  the  bushes  in  shame. 
Then  Gitche  Manitou  drove  them  away,  so  that 
they  could  no  longer  eat  fruits,  but  had  to  live 
on  meat.  In  his  wandering  the  first  man  found 
a  great  book  that  began  speaking  to  him.  It  told 
him  to  do  so  many  things  that  he  could  not  remem- 
ber half  of  them,  and  he  threw  it  away,  where- 
upon he  found  on  the  earth  a  book  in  sign  lan- 
guage that  covered  only  two  squares  of  bark.  This 
sign-book  gave  no  laws,  but  told  much  about  foods 
and  remedies,  so  that  in  a  few  years  his  children  be- 
came not  only  hunters  but  medicine-men.  Manitou 
repented  his  anger  and  restored  the  people  to  his 

24 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

love  again,  ordering  his  own  son,  or  agent,  Mani- 
bozho,  to  make  a  paradise  for  them  in  the  west, 
where  the  world  ended.  It  is  a  beautiful  country, 
and  there,  when  they  die,  they  battle  and  hunt  no 
more,  but  live  on  sweet,  shining  mushrooms,  play 
on  the  flute  and  drum,  and  dance  all  day.  To 
reach  this  land  they  travel  the  Milky  Way,  the 
path  of  souls.  They  need  bows  or  guns  on  the 
journey,  but  none  after  they  reach  paradise.  If  on 
the  way  they  stop  to  eat  a  strawberry  that  a  tempter 
oiFers  to  them,  they  fall  from  the  bright  bridge  and 
become  frogs  as  they  touch  the  earth. 

Among  the  Blackfeet  the  sand-hills  of  the  plains, 
near  the  United  States  boundary,  were  the  shadow- 
land,  the  ghost-place,  the  limbo  of  recently  de- 
parted souls.  Our  shadows  are  held  to  be  actual 
souls.  Dead  persons  sometimes  live  again  as  ani- 
mals, and  owls  are  the  ghosts  of  medicine-men. 
In  the  Red  River  country  the  dead  hover  about  in 
the  form  of  eagles,  but  some  of  the  Siwash  believe 
they  take  the  forms  of  birds  more  foul  of  habit, 
that  lurk  over  the  place  of  their  demise  for  four 
days.  In  order  to  keep  them  at  a  distance  the  sur- 
vivors burn  old  moccasins  that  make  a  fetid  smoke. 
Some  of  the  far  northwestern  Indians  believed  that 
hell  was  in  the  ice,  for  it  is  natural  that  the  cold  of 
the  Arctic  winter  should,  to  them,  stand  for  the 
extremest  suffering,  but  some  of  the  Eskimos  put 
the  place  of  future  punishment  beneath  the  sea, 
and  heaven  above,  with  plenty  of  walrus.     Their 

25 


Myths  and  Legends 

hell  is  like  Dante's  :  of  successive  cellars,  and  the 
deeper  go  the  damned  the  colder  it  grows.  The 
wickedest  go  to  the  bottom.  The  Eskimos,  by  the 
way,  are  advanced  beyond  certain  primitive  beliefs, 
and  the  new  woman  is  no  stranger  to  them.  The 
Sun  was  a  youth  to  whom  the  Great  Spirit  gave 
wings  that  he  might  chase  the  Moon, — a  winged 
girl.  Aoguta  and  her  daughter  Sedna  are  among 
their  chief  deities.  The  Hudson  Bay  Eskimos  tell 
us  that  the  first  man  sprang  to  being  in  a  beautiful 
valley,  and  married  the  only  girl  on  earth,  after  he 
had  picked  her  as  a  flower.  They  were  the  parents 
of  all  mankind.  The  Assiniboins  believed  that 
hell  was  in  the  Great  Selkirk  glacier.  The  un- 
speakable majesty  of  this  ice  mass  and  its  moun- 
tain setting  to  them  was  merely  dreadful.  The 
Chippewas  held  that  the  wicked  were  immersed  to 
their  chins  in  water,  and  that  they  could  not  leave 
it,  although,  to  add  to  their  discomfiture,  the  happy 
hunting-grounds  were  in  their  view. 

Like  the  Greeks,  many  of  the  Indians  peopled 
the  woods,  hills,  and  waters  with  gods  and  spirits, 
who  were  amiable  or  devilish  according  to  their 
environment  and  according  to  the  nature  of  the 
imagination  that  evoked  them.  They  personified 
many  of  the  stars  and  mountains ;  a  comet  was  a 
winged  creature  breathing  fire ;  the  morning  star 
was  the  Early  Riser  ;  the  Dipper  was  the  Seven 
Persons ;  the  moon  was  the  Night  Red  Light ;  the 
Milky  Way  was  the  Wolf  Road.     Spirits  of  places 

26 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

sometimes  spoke  to  those  who  asked  advice  of 
them,  and  while  La  Salle's  boat,  the  Griffin,  was  in 
process  of  building  at  Cayuga  Creek,  he  went  to 
Niagara  to  consult  the  oracle  at  Devil's  Hole.  A 
voice  spoke  from  it  warning  him  to  abandon  his 
voyage  on  pain  of  death  by  treachery.  He  met 
that  fate.  The  Nipissings  were  stigmatized  by  the 
Jesuits  as  "  the  sorcerers,"  and  Lake  Nipissing  was 
beset  by  devils  and  magicians. 

The  mountain  in  British  Columbia,  or  Washing- 
ton, on  which  life  was  preserved  during  the  great 
flood  is  impossible  of  identification,  but  deluge  le- 
gends pertain  to  several  of  the  peaks.  The  Takul- 
lies  say  that  the  earth-builder  was  a  muskrat,  which, 
diving  here  and  there  in  the  universal  ocean,  brought 
up  mud,  and  spat  it  out  in  one  place  until  an  island 
was  formed,  which  grew  to  be  the  earth.  After  it 
had  been  peopled  a  lire  swept  over  it,  destroying 
all  the  surface  save  one  mountain  that  held  a  deep 
cave,  and  in  this  hid  one  man  and  one  woman  until 
the  earth  was  cool  again,  when  they  emerged  and 
repeopled  it.  This  myth  is  oddly  repeated  in 
Paraguay  and  Bolivia.  Alaskan  Kaiganees  say  that 
the  big  canoe  in  which  a  good  man  was  saved  in 
the  time  of  a  great  flood  rested  on  a  mountain  just 
back  of  Howkan,  and  one  old  fellow  claimed,  a 
dozen  or  two  of  years  ago,  that  he  had  a  piece  of 
its  bark  anchor-rope.  The  crow  that  flew  out  of 
the  ark  still  nests  in  the  crater  of  Mount  Edgecumbe, 
near  Sitka,  and  catches  whales.     On  Forester  Island 

27 


Myths  and  Legends 

they  say  that  towns  were  destroyed  by  pest  and  fire 
for  their  wickedness,  and  that  a  woman  who  looked 
back  in  the  act  of  flight  was  turned  to  stone,  her 
lodge  and  that  of  her  brother  being  also  changed 
to  rock  at  the  same  moment,  and  you  see  them  in 
the  river  to-day, — warnings  to  obey  the  Great  Spirit 
when  he  speaks.  A  legend  of  a  collision  of  the 
earth  with  a  fiery  dragon  (a  comet  ?)  is  found  among 
many  of  the  Algonquins. 

Among  the  Dog-Rib  Indians  of  the  Barren 
Grounds  there  is  a  belief  in  one  Chapawee,  a  mis- 
chief-maker who  plunged  the  earth  into  a  long 
period  of  darkness  by  catching  the  sun  in  a  noose 
and  tying  it  fast,  so  that  it  could  not  rise  above 
the  horizon.  Does  this  typify  the  Arctic  winter? 
After  a  time  he  sent  animals  to  gnaw  the  snare 
asunder,  and  they  were  burned  to  ashes.  Does  this 
clothe  in  parable  the  outbreak  of  a  volcano,  or  the 
dissipation  of  the  ice  in  the  Arctic  summer  ?  Be- 
like it  is  neither,  for  many  of  the  traditions  are  but 
old  wives'  tales,  without  a  meaning.  Men,  meas- 
urably civilized,  lived  in  North  America  twenty 
thousand  years  ago  ;  and  some  of  the  myths  like  the 
foregoing  are  thought  to  preserve  the  memory  of 
the  last  great  glacier,  that  covered  the  continent 
down  to  the  fortieth  parallel,  burying  beneath  it 
the  cities  of  this  ancient  people. 

One  of  the  traditionary  characters  among  the 
western  tribes,  from  the  Blackfeet  to  the  Aleuts  of 
Alaska,  was  Old  Man.     He  varies  in  power  and 

28 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

importance  in  different  parts  of  the  country,  but 
among  the  Aleuts  he  has  many  of  the  attributes 
of  the  Great  Spirit,  and  is  a  secondary  god.  He 
played  a  Cadmus  part,  dropping  stones  on  the  earth, 
that  presently  sprang  up  in  human  form.  Some 
that  he  flung  into  the  air  became  birds,  those  that 
he  cast  to  a  distance  were  quadrupeds  and  serpents, 
and  those  that  he  tossed  into  the  sea  turned  to 
fish.  Thus  was  the  world  peopled.  The  Black- 
feet  say  that  Old  Man  acquired  a  wife,  a  daughter, 
and  a  son-in-law.  The  latter  was  not  worth  much. 
There  arrived  in  the  lodge  a  young  man  who  had 
sprung  from  the  blood  of  some  game  they  were 
preparing  for  the  pot,  and  this  young  one  and  Old 
Man  attempted  to  stop  the  thieving  and  abuse  of 
the  son-in-law.  They  could  not,  and  as  this  ob- 
jectionable person  had  an  especially  violent  tantrum 
on  a  certain  occasion,  the  good  ones  shot  him  dead, 
and  there  were  peace  and  plenty  afterward.  All 
of  which  has  been  construed  as  a  day  and  night 
myth,  a  summer  and  winter  myth,  a  sunshine  and 
storm  myth,  a  famine  and  plenty  myth.  Maybe. 
While  some  ethnologists  claim  that  the  Micmacs 
are  the  Skraelings  of  the  Northmen,  the  first  known 
explorers  of  our  eastern  coast,  others  relate  the 
western  tribes  to  the  Asiatics.  There  are  Greek 
words  in  Central  American  tongues,  likenesses  to 
Greek,  Indian,  Assyrian,  and  Egyptian  architecture 
in  Mexico,  Central  America,  and  Peru,  pictures 
there  of  animals  more  common  to  Asia  than  to  this 

29 


Myths  and  Legends 

continent,  round  towers  in  the  West  like  those  of 
Ireland,  and  faiths  and  myths  among  the  aborigines 
resembling  those  of  the  Old  World. 

The  proud  Abenakis,  of  eastern  Canada,  say  that 
they  are  the  original  people  ;  they  acknowledge  no 
ancestry  ;  they  built  villages,  and  believe  that  "  after 
making  them  and  their  land  the  Great  Spirit  made 
the  rest  carelessly. "  They  were  related  in  marriage 
to  Pamola,  the  terrible  One  who  lived  in  Ktaadn, 
and  whose  son  killed  game  and  men  by  pointing  at 
them.  On  midsummer  day,  "  the  day  of  sparkling 
fire,"  they  built  a  large  fire  and  danced  about  it — 
a  Phoenician  custom,  the  fire  representing  the  sun. 
This  custom  the  Acadians  modify  in  their  "  fire 
talk"  on  St.  John's  Eve,  when  the  priest  heaps  fra- 
grant boughs  before  his  church  and  recites  prayers 
as  the  flames  crackle  among  them.  So  soon  as  this 
is  seen  the  country  glitters  and  the  news  goes 
round ;  for  if  a  death  has  occurred  the  farmer 
dashes  out  his  fire ;  if  sickness,  he  lets  it  flicker 
and  die  ;  if  all  is  well,  it  blazes  jubilantly. 

A  theory  that  the  northern  Indians  descended 
from  Tyrians  and  Israelites  who  came  over  in  332 
b.c.  is  based  on  the  existence  among  those  tribes 
of  the  deluge  legend,  that  of  the  dove  of  discovery, 
and  that  of  the  ark  of  the  covenant.  The  ark, 
which  contains  a  shell  that  speaks  oracles,  under- 
stood only  by  the  medicine-men,  is  never  allowed 
to  touch  the  earth,  but  is  carried  by  the  faithful  into 
battle.      When  it  is  advanced  among  the  enemy  all 

30 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

rush  to  its  safety,  as  the  Scots  pressed  about  the 
heart  of  Bruce  when  it  was  thrown  among  the  foe, 
and  as  some  tribes  rallied  about  the  heads  of  their 
chiefs  when,  after  death,  they  were  carried  into  the 
fight  on  poles,  as  standards.  The  exact  where- 
abouts of  this  ark  remains  a  mystery  not  to  be  re- 
vealed to  the  profane. 

But  most  wide-spread  of  all  beliefs  among  the  red 
men  of  the  north  is  that  in  Nanabush,  Manabozho, 
Glooskap,  or  Hiawatha,  who  is  buried  beneath 
Thunder  Cape,  or  "  the  sleeping  giant,"  a  basaltic 
uplift,  thirteen  hundred  and  fifty  feet  high,  at  the 
northwest  corner  of  Lake  Superior,  and  whose 
deeds  of  valor  and  charity  are  told  in  many  tongues. 
Some  say  he  was  the  statesman  who  federated  the 
Six  Nations  and  preached  arbitration.  He  took 
on  human  form  to  benefit  mankind,  but  often  went 
away  and  dwelt  with  birds  in  a  great  space  and 
great  light.  He  came  from  the  east  in  a  granite 
boat,  with  a  woman  who  was  not  his  wife,  for  he 
never  took  one.  When  on  a  later  voyage  he  gave 
room  in  his  boat  to  a  woman  of  evil  character — as 
was  proved  by  the  storm  that  arose  about  him — he 
sprang  ashore,  leaving  her  to  drift  about  until  she 
became  a  shark.  Hiawatha  figures  sometimes  as 
creator,  sometimes  as  Messiah,  sometimes  as  a  Noah 
who  was  saved  from  the  deluge,  and  who  sent  forth 
the  bird  called  the  diver  from  his  boat,  to  learn  if 
the  earth  was  emerging  from  the  waters.  On  their 
subsidence  he  became  the  father  of  a  new  race,  and 

3i 


Myths  and  Legends 

walked  over  all  America.  In  some  legends  he  is 
the  Hare,  and  the  Hare  was  the  sun.  His  foe,  the 
snake  prince,  the  god  of  evil,  whom  he  destroyed, 
,has  been  thought  to  be  a  comet.  Another  foe,  the 
giant  frog,  vast  and  cold,  squatting  over  miles  of 
plain,  was  the  great  glacier  of  the  ice  age.  Be- 
lieving that  his  father  had  killed  his  mother,  he 
chased  him  to  the  shores  of  the  Arctic  sea.  His 
brother,  the  Flint,  he  killed  in  fight,  and  the  boul- 
ders on  the  plains  of  Assiniboia,  Alberta,  and  Sas- 
katchewan were  the  missiles  they  hurled  at  each 
other.  In  the  mission-yard  at  Victoria,  on  the 
North  Saskatchewan,  was  a  meteorite  that  Mani- 
tou — possibly  Manabozho — had  cast  down,  and 
the  Indians  believed  that  to  move  it  would  be  to 
incur  his  hate,  and  bring  upon  them  battle,  disease, 
and  scarcity  of  game.  White  men  moved  it,  and, 
unhappily  for  those  who  had  been  inveighing 
against  the  superstition  of  the  Indians,  war,  small- 
pox, politics,  and  famine  quickly  followed.  In  the 
east  he  was  called  Glooskap.  Minas  Basin,  Nova 
Scotia,  was  his  beaver-pond,  dammed  at  Cape 
Blomidon,  his  throne  ;  but  when  he  saw  that  the 
pent  waters  were  rising  among  the  villages,  to  the 
alarm  and  distress  of  the  people,  he  burst  the  rocks 
asunder,  and  swift  tides  now  eddy  through  "  the 
Gut."  Here  he  fought  and  killed  the  Great 
Beaver,  whose  bones  are  the  Five  Islands,  near 
Parrsboro',  though  this  legend  appears  also  at  Sault 
Sainte  Marie.     Spencer's  Island  is  his  upset  kettle. 

32 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

On  Partridge  Island  he  held  a  great  feast  with  Kit- 
pooseeagoono,  and  the  pair  of  them  ate  a  whale. 
Fragments  of  a  great  causeway  of  his  building  are 
seen  in  islands  off  the  shore  of  the  old  maritime 
provinces.  He  was  much  in  company  with  his 
uncle,  Great  Turtle,  and  shared  many  of  his  adven- 
tures. At  one  time,  when  he  was  not  at  hand,  some 
hostiles  caught  the  Turtle  and  condemned  him  to 
the  stake.  He  rushed  into  the  flames  so  eagerly  that 
they  pulled  him  out.  Then  they  resolved  to  cut 
his  throat,  whereupon  he  seized  a  knife  and  hacked 
himself  so  fiercely  that  they  disarmed  him.  Finally 
they  agreed  that  he  must  be  drowned,  and  this  fate 
seemed  to  put  him  in  terror,  so  that  he  caught  at 
trees  as  they  urged  him  on;  but  once  at  the  water's 
edge  the  cunning  fellow  chuckled,  dived  out  of 
sight,  and  so  escaped.  When  the  English  came, 
Glooskap  waded  from  Newfoundland  to  Nova  Sco- 
tia, and  either  freed  his  hunting-dogs  or  turned 
them  to  stone,  that  their  cries  might  not  betray  the 
lodges  of  his  people  to  the  strangers.  But  the  red 
men  became  evil  after  they  had  known  the  English, 
and  Glooskap,  with  Great  Turtle,  entered  his 
white  stone  canoe  and  sailed  away  to  the  west, 
singing — some  say  up  the  St.  Lawrence ;  others 
say  across  the  Great  Lakes.  All  nature  mourns 
his  return,  and  the  owl,  the  loon,  and  other  birds 
and  beasts  found  new  voices  on  the  night  when 
he  went  away. 


33 


Myths  and  Legends 

GLOOSKAP  AT   MENAGWES 

THE  spirit  of  the  river  St.  John  having  become 
noisy  and  audacious,  damaging  the  banks 
and  brawling  defiance  to  the  gods,  the  Great  Spirit 
showed  his  anger  by  closing  its  mouth.  The  re- 
mains of  his  dam  are  overhung  by  the  suspension 
bridge  in  the  present  city  of  St.  John.  When  the 
tide  runs  out  there  is  a  fall  toward  the  sea,  and 
when  the  tide  runs  in  the  fall  tumbles  across  the 
reef  up-river.  This  is  the  only  reversible  fall  in  the 
world,  they  say,  and  the  lumber  barges  in  the  whirl 
of  it,  going  up  or  down  with  the  tide,  are  a  sight 
worth  seeing.  Were  the  rock  at  the  foot  of  the 
gorge  to  be  blasted,  so  as  to  afford  free  ingress  to 
the  salt  water,  some  miles  of  the  land  now  culti- 
vated and  dwelt  upon,  back  of  the  city,  would  be 
permanently  flooded.  One  Indian  legend  has  it  that 
a  giant  beaver  built  a  dam  across  the  outlet,  creating 
a  flood  behind  it  in  which  all  the  inland  people 
were  drowned.  Glooskap  visited  this  point  and 
named  it  Menagwes.  It  once  befell  him  to  take  a 
long  journey  for  the  good  of  the  human  race,  for 
he  went  about  teaching  men  how  to  build  canoes, 
to  smoke  pipes,  to  raise  crops,  to  use  paint,  to  make 
maple  sugar,  and,  as  he  left  his  house  unprotected, 
this  chance  for  injury  was  not  neglected  by  the 
wizards  and  demons  that  always  lurk  in  good 
men's  shadows.  Disguised  in  thunder-clouds,  they 
wrecked  and  burned  his  lodge,  slew  his  friends  and 

34 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

servants,  and  when  he  returned  to  find  ashes  and 
tokens  of  strife  where  had  been  comfort  and  peace, 
his  tears  fell  so  fast  and  free  that  they  were  like 
rain.  A  few  of  the  wizards  he  tracked  to  the  site 
of  Pictou,  where  he  slew  them.  A  witch  he  caught 
in  her  lodge,  on  the  site  of  Liverpool,  Nova  Scotia, 
and,  after  a  fight  that  the  stars  stood  still  to  see, 
he  tore  her  into  pieces.  Then,  calling  to  the 
whales,  he  mounted  their  backs  and  rode  to  New- 
foundland, and  appeared,  so  towering  that  his  head 
touched  the  sky,  before  other  of  his  enemies,  who 
shrank  into  the  fog  in  terrified  silence.  In  vain 
their  cunning,  for  he  searched  out  and  destroyed 
them.  Returning  to  Menagwes,  he  wept  afresh, 
for  his  friends  were  ashes.  He  could  not  give 
life. 


THE  DOGS  OF  CLOTE  SCAURP 

EARLY  fishers  on  the  Restigouche  who  had 
Indian  guides  reported  a  disturbance  at 
night  by  unearthly  noises  that  hurried  through  the 
wood  about  them.  The  Indians  would  draw  nearer 
to  the  fire,  listen  to  the  uncanny  laughter  and  wail- 
ing cries,  making  sure  that  they  were  not  the 
calls  of  owls  and  panthers,  and  remark,  "  Clote 
Scaurp's  hunting-dogs  are  out."  Clote  Scaurp, 
who  is  only  Glooskap  under  another  spelling  or 
pronunciation,  lived  near  the  Restigouche,  on  the 
narrow  Waagan,  for  a  time.     In  some  myths  of 

35 


Myths  and  Legends 

this  locality  he  is  human,  in  others  a  demi-god,  in 
more  distant  ones  he  appears  to  be  the  Old  Man 
of  the  plains  families.  But  he  was  a  good-natured 
hero,  who  hunted  more  for  company  than  for  the 
joy  of  killing,  and  his  dogs,  though  often  heard, 
have  never  been  seen.  He  talked  with  birds,  beasts, 
and  fishes,  and  only  when  he  found  that  any  one  of 
them  had  become  savage  and  cruel  would  he  grow 
angry.  The  moon,  for  instance,  was  a  huge  and 
dangerous  beast  that  went  up  and  down  the  land 
devouring  and  killing,  so  that  all  things  fled  before 
it.  Clote  Scaurp  set  off  with  his  dogs  to  check  its 
devilish  conduct,  and,  meeting  it  in  the  wood,  he 
struck  it  such  a  terrific  whack  with  his  club  that  it 
nearly  gave  up  its  life.  Not  only  did  it  cease  to 
grow  from  that  moment,  but  it  peaked  and  pined 
to  the  thing  we  see  at  this  day,  or  night,  and 
clambered  into  the  sky  to  be  out  of  reach  of  his 
weapons.  To  nearly  all  other  things  Clote  Scaurp 
was  kind,  and  earth  and  his  dogs  have  been  sorry 
without  him.  As  evil  tendencies  began  to  show 
themselves,  not  only  among  beasts  but  also  among 
men — envy,  avarice,  dishonesty,  ruffianism,  laziness 
— he  gathered  all  creatures  about  him  and  preached 
good  manners.  He  helped  them  to  be  better  by 
living  better  himself;  but  the  more  he  did  for  them 
the  less  they  would  do  for  themselves,  and  they 
were  full  of  evil  will.  Unable  longer  to  endure 
this  state,  he  resolved  to  say  farewell  to  the  creatures 
he  had  known  ;  so  he  called  them  from  woods  and 

36 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

fields  and  waters  ;  but,  though  he  spread  a  mighty 
feast,  only  the  brutes  attended.  The  men  were 
wholly  ungrateful,  and  they  hated  lectures.  At  the 
end  of  the  banquet  Clote  Scaurp  and  Great  Turtle 
entered  their  canoe  and  rowed  away  toward  the 
setting  sun.  All  the  brutes  watched  sorrowing,  and 
listened  to  the  mournful  singing  that  came  fainter 
and  fainter  out  of  the  west.  When,  at  last,  the 
beasts  broke  silence  to  express  their  grief,  each,  to 
the  general  astonishment,  spoke  a  different  tongue 
from  all  the  rest,  and  all  fled  as  in  fear,  never  again 
to  meet  in  general  council.  The  white  owl  calls 
all  night,  "  I  am  sorry  ;"  and  Clote  Scaurp's  dogs 
still  seek  him,  howling  in  the  woods  along  the  Res- 
tigouche.  Two  rocks  at  the  foot  of  Blomidon  are 
called  his  dogs,  and  he  will  awaken  them  when  he 
returns,  they  say  ;  but  those  who  have  heard  them 
know  that  they  still  enjoy  their  liberty. 

THE   MISSIONS 

ALTHOUGH  we  concede  the  benefits  given 
to  new  lands  by  commercial  enterprise  and 
their  conquest  by  enlightened  peoples,  in  the  case 
of  Canada  it  must  be  confessed  that  religious  en- 
thusiasm accomplished  more,  both  for  the  explorers 
and  for  the  natives,  than  any  other  cause.  The 
first  men  to  force  a  way  to  the  inland  lakes,  to  map 
the  plains,  rivers,  and  mountains,  to  effect  a  peace 
with  the  savages,  were  the  missionaries,  and  but  for 

37 


Myths  and  Legends 

their  eagerness  for  the  conversion  of  the  Indians 
the  safety  and  material  development  of  the  country- 
might  have  been  long  deferred.  The  Jesuits  were 
especially  courageous.  Their  enthusiasm  defied  all 
threats  and  survived  all  torture.  One  missionary, 
Father  Jogues,  was  shockingly  maltreated,  and  his 
hand  was  chopped  off,  yet  he  regarded  these  things 
only  as  passing  pains,  and  kept  on  with  his  work. 
Another,  who  had  been  hunted  off  to  the  woods,  was 
found  there  frozen  to  death,  in  the  attitude  of  prayer. 
A  missionary  on  the  upper  Ottawa  was  roasted  over 
a  slow  fire,  hot  axes  were  placed  about  his  neck  and 
head,  and  in  mockery  he  was  baptized  with  boiling 
water.  Yet  to  his  last  breath  he  implored  divine 
protection  for  his  tormentors.  After  the  capture 
of  Fort  Ignace,  on  Lake  Simcoe,  the  missionaries 
Lalemant  and  De  Brebeuf  were  cruelly  used. 
The  former  was  covered  with  bark,  roasted,  and 
partly  eaten  before  his  voice  ceased  in  prayer.  His 
companion  enraged  the  savages  by  his  indifference, 
for  he  seemed  careless  of  suffering,  though  they 
kept  him  alive  for  three  hours  to  endure  it,  and  at 
the  last  they  ate  his  heart,  in  order  that  his  courage 
and  fortitude  might  pass  into  their  bodies. 

It  was  such  heroism  that  subdued  the  savagery 
of  the  red  men  and  turned  them  into  poor,  dull, 
ambitionless  people,  to  the  comfort  of  the  pale- 
faces, who  are  now  able  to  cheat  them  in  trade 
without  the  risk  of  so  much  as  a  prod  in  the  solar 
plexus.     The  contrast  between  the  conduct  of  the 

38 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

French  explorers  and  that  of  the  soldiers  and  dealers 
who  arrived  later  is  a  contrast  between  religious 
France  of  the  seventeenth  century  and  Brumma- 
gem of  the  nineteenth.  Even  the  Hudson  Bay 
and  Northwest  companies  have  not  escaped  cen- 
sure, for  it  has  been  alleged  that  when  a  gun  paid 
for  as  many  beaver-skins  as  would  reach  to  the 
muzzle  of  it,  the  skins  packed  flat  and  the  gun 
held  upright,  the  barrel  of  the  weapon  grew  and 
grew  with  each  successive  year  until  the  Indian, 
after  he  had  bought  it  with  the  peltry,  had  to  bor- 
row a  file  and  cut  off  a  foot  of  useless  metal.  And 
it  is  a  fact  that  when  certain  red  men  received  pay 
in  five-dollar  bills  they  readily  exchanged  one  of 
those  pieces  of  paper  for  two  silver  dollars,  for 
they  could  not  read  the  number  on  the  bill. 

Missionaries  encouraged  the  building  of  shrines 
and  churches,  and  people  who  had  visions  or 
heard  voices  were  invited  to- commemorate  the  cir- 
cumstance. Our  Lady  of  the  Snows,  for  instance, 
appeared  to  a  Breton  cavalier  who  had  lost  his  way 
while  hunting  on  Trois  Rivieres,  and  lighted  him 
to  a  forge,  where  he  found  shelter.  In  return  for 
this  mercy  he  was  induced  by  the  priests  to  rear 
a  shrine  to  her  at  Ville  Marie,  "  the  city  of  the 
mount,"  and  so  it  came  about  that  the  Church  of 
Our  Lady  of  the  Snows  was  erected  on  "  the 
priests'  farm"  in  Montreal. 

There  is  a  faint  and  melancholy  fear  that  the 
missionaries  did  a  little  cheating,  from  purely  re- 

39 


Myths  and  Legends 

ligious  motives.  It  has  been  set  forth  that  the 
giant  devil  who  infested  Les  Islets  Machins,  in  the 
St.  Lawrence,  was  not  an  entirely  disingenuous 
creation.  The  Jesuits  are  charged  with  telling  the 
Indians  that  he  used  a  pine-tree  as  a  club,  that  he 
sprang  upon  people  who  were  fishing  in  his  neigh- 
borhood or  innocently  paddling  up  and  down  the 
river,  and,  discovering  by  an  instinct  that  never 
erred,  which  of  them  had  not  been  baptized,  he 
brained  them  forthwith,  sparing  only  the  Chris- 
tians. This  tale  led  to  so  many  conversions  that 
the  giant  fled  in  disgust,  for  lack  of  occupation. 
So,  too,  the  report  that  Cap  de  la  Madelaine,  on 
the  St.  Lawrence,  was  haunted  by  a  Magdalen 
who  cried  all  night  for  Christian  burial,  may  have 
had  its  deterrent  effect  on  the  thoughtless  or  im- 
moral among  the  women  of  the  settlements.  The 
braillard  de  la  Madelaine  has  been  otherwise  as- 
cribed to  the  soul  of  a  murderous  wrecker,  to  a 
priest  who  allowed  a  babe  to  die  without  baptism, 
and  to  a  little  boy  that  alone  survived  a  wreck, 
though  only  for  a  few  hours. 

Was  Christianity  taught  before  the  time  of  the 
Jesuits  ?  Did  the  Norsemen  teach  it  ?  When  Car- 
tier  landed  at  Gaspe  Basin  on  the  St.  Lawrence,  and 
planted  a  cross  on  shore  with  great  solemnity,  he  saw 
with  surprise  that  the  natives  made  obeisance  to  this 
object,  as  one  with  which  they  were  familiar,  al- 
though this  was  in  1 5 36,  and  Cartier  was  supposed  to 
be  the  first  white  man  in  that  region.    The  narrative 

40 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

of  the  Indians  was  to  the  effect  that  long  before, 
when  they  had  been  troubled  by  a  pestilence,  their 
old  men  had  a  medicine  dream,  in  which  there  ap- 
peared before  them  "  a  man  exceedingly  beautiful, 
with  a  cross  in  his  hand,  who  bade  them  return 
home,  make  crosses  like  his,  and  present  them  to 
the  heads  of  families,  assuring  them  that  they  would 
find  therein  a  remedy  for  all  their  ills."  This  was 
done ;  it  worked  a  cure,  and  the  cross  became  a 
talisman  from  that  time  forth.  Was  the  "  beau- 
tiful man"  a  remembered  description  of  Christ,  or 
was  it  one  of  the  "  white  men  clothed  in  wool,"  of 
northern  tradition,  who  were  undoubtedly  Norse 
explorers  ?  Respecting  these  latter,  the  Milicites, 
or  Meliseets,  tell  of  a  visit  of  tall,  pale  strangers 
who  drove  away  the  red  men,  built  houses  of  stone, 
swigged  mighty  draughts  from  horns,  shouting  as 
they  drank,  and  were  overwhelmed  by  an  earth- 
quake that  changed  the  course  of  the  St.  John  River. 
The  Micmacs — by  some  alleged  to  be  the  lost  Beo- 
thuks  of  Newfoundland — tell  of  a  woman's  dream, 
long  before  Carder's  landing,  in  which  she  saw  an 
island  floating  toward  the  land  with  trees  upon  it, 
and  creatures  dressed  in  skins.  Next  day  the  island 
appeared  in  fact,  but  it  was  a  ship  ;  the  trees  were 
masts,  and  the  creatures  were  men  who  spoke  in  a 
strange  tongue,  making  signs  of  friendship.  One 
man,  dressed  in  white,  lived  among  them  for  a  time, 
and  tried  to  teach  a  new  religion,  but,  although  he 
found  some  listeners,  the  wise  men  refused  to  heed 

41 


Myths  and  Legends 

him,  because   the    dream   had   been   granted   to  a 
woman  and  not  to  a  medicine-man. 

Unqualified  praise  can  be  given  to  the  mission- 
aries of  all  sects  and  of  no  sect  that  have  sought  for 
the  elevation  of  the  red  man,  but  they  have  some- 
times discovered  that  he  was  less  of  a  savage  than  he 
looked.  The  conduct  of  Chief  Joseph,  of  the  Nez 
Perces,  in  the  war  so  cruelly  and  unjustly  waged 
against  him,  was  admirable  in  its  forbearance.  In- 
stances of  generosity  and  self-sacrifice  are  many. 
A  Canadian  clergyman,  relating  to  a  company  of 
Blackfeet  the  measures  common  in  civilized  states 
for  the  care  of  orphaned  children,  explained  that 
if  his  own  children  were  left  fatherless  his  prop- 
erty would  be  sold,  or  managed  by  an  executor  for 
their  benefit,  so  that  they  might  continue  to  secure 
board,  clothing,  and  education.  The  Indians  were 
both  amused  and  astonished.  "  The  white  people 
are  savages,"  said  one.  "  When  any  people  die  in 
our  camps  and  leave  little  children,  we  take  them 
into  our  lodges.  The  best  piece  of  buffalo  meat 
we  give  to  them.  We  clothe  and  train  them. 
They  are  our  bone  and  flesh.  They  have  no 
father  or  mother,  so  we  are  all  fathers  and  mothers. 
White  people  do  not  love  their  children.  They 
have  to  be  paid  for  loving  orphans."  The  respect 
in  which  the  aborigines  hold  their  ancestors,  at 
least  when  the  latter  are  dead,  is  in  contrast  with 
the  lack  of  honor  that  the  dead  sometimes  have 
from  the  civilized.     There  is  a  cave  at  Mistassini 

42 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

that  the  Indians  never  approach  closely,  lest  they 
should  seem  to  spy  on  the  ghosts  of  their  fathers, 
who  were  buried  there  in  other  ages,  and  who  still 
sit  there,  holding  councils. 

And  seldom  do  the  Indians  hear  from  the  mis- 
sionaries an  eloquence  equal  to  their  own.  Listen 
to  this  prayer  of  a  Piegan  to  a  mountain  manitou  : 
"  Hear,  now,  you  Chief  Mountain,  you  who  stand 
foremost ;  listen,  I  say,  to  the  mourning  of  the 
people.  Now  the  days  are  truly  become  evil,  and 
are  not  as  they  used  to  be  in  ancient  times.  Bat 
you  know  :  you  have  seen  the  days.  Under  your 
fallen  garments  the  years  lie  buried.  Then  the 
days  were  full  of  joy.  The  buffalo  covered  the 
prairie,  and  the  people  were  glad.  Then  they  had 
warm  dwellings,  soft  robes  for  covering,  and  the 
feasting  was  without  end.  Hear,  now,  you  Moun- 
tain Chief.  Listen,  I  say,  to  the  mourning  of  the 
people.  Their  lodges  and  their  clothing  now  are 
made  of  strange,  thin  stuff,  and  the  long  days  come 
and  go  without  the  feast,  for  our  buffalo  are  gone. 
The  drum  now  is  useless,  for  who  would  sing  and 
dance  while  hunger  gnawed  him  ?  Hear,  now, 
you  who  stand  among  the  clouds.  Pity,  I  say, 
your  starving  people.  Give  us  back  those  happy 
days.  Once  more  cover  the  prairie  with  real  food,  so 
that  your  children  may  live  again.  Hear,  I  say,  the 
prayer  of  your  unhappy  people.  Bring  back  those 
ancient  days.  Then  will  our  prayers  again  be  strong. 
You  will  be  happy,  and  the  aged  will  die  content." 

43 


Myths  and  Legends 

A  FEW   MONSTERS 

IN  common  with  other  parts  of  the  continent, 
and  the  seas  that  wash  their  coasts,  the  Do- 
minion and  its  waters  have  been  peopled  with 
strange  creatures,  some  of  them  the  more  terrible 
because  they  evade  sight,  touch,  definition,  and 
bullets.  Now  and  again  the  sea-serpent  rears  his 
head,  snorting,  from  the  brine,  and  puts  for  shore 
at  a  pace  that  shames  our  torpedo-boats,  and  elderly 
maidens  at  the  watering-places  convincingly  resign 
themselves  to  hysterics.  He — perhaps  there  is 
also  a  she,  though  it  does  not  seem  possible — 
usually  proves  to  be  a  porpoise,  a  sunfish,  a  white 
whale,  or  an  octopus;  still,  "you  can't  generally 
'most  always  tell,  sometimes,"  and  one  of  the  times 
might  have  been  when  he  was  not  a  porpoise,  but 
the  sea-serpent.  The  largest  devil-fish  known, 
taken  on  the  Newfoundland  coast,  had  a  reach  of 
forty  feet,  and  there  is  no  doubt  about  him,  for  he 
was  pickled  and  carried  to  the  States.  Either  of 
his  arms  would  have  made  a  more  than  respect- 
able snake.  But  all  hope  has  not  been  abandoned 
of  catching  the  veritable  sea-serpent — the  one  with 
eyes  like  saucepans,  with  a  grinning  mouth  set 
with  stone-drill  teeth,  with  a  weedy  mane,  with 
stripes  and  spots  more  vivid  than  a  mid-century 
fashion-plate,  and  with  a  braying  voice  like  that  of 
a  mule  or  an  agitator.  Now  and  then  he  leaves  his 
habitat  and  wallows  overland  to  fresh  water.     He 

44 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

was  seen,  for  instance,  in  Skiff  Lake,  New  Bruns- 
wick, where  he  succeeded  in  stretching  himself  to 
a  length  of  only  thirty  feet. 

Rattlesnake  Islands,  in  Lake  Erie,  indicate  by 
their  name  what  desirable  places  they  must  have 
been  to  live  away  from,  but  the  snakes  that  remain, 
if,  indeed,  there  are  any,  are  as  nothing  to  what 
they  were  when  the  early  explorers  visited  the 
group,  carrying  their  imaginations  with  them  ;  for, 
said  they,  the  islands  bristled  with  a  kind  of  snake 
that  "  blew  from  its  mouth  with  great  force  a  sub- 
tile wind,"  which  whoso  breathed  must  die. 

There  were  some  rare  birds  in  this  country,  too, 
beside  the  Indian  thunder-birds  that  flashed  ter- 
rible glances  out  of  their  eyes  and  made  the  heaven 
resound  when  they  shook  their  iron  wings.  There 
was  an  eagle  of  portentous  size  that  preyed  on 
human  beings  when  it  lacked  fawns  and  bear-cubs. 
They  will  show  you,  beside  the  deepest  reach  of 
the  Ottawa,  a  cliff  falling  for  hundreds  of  feet  into 
the  river,  with  no  beach  at  its  foot.  It  is  Oiseau 
Rock,  and  to  its  top  this  eagle  flew  with  a  pappoose, 
the  frantic  mother  climbing  after  it  and  bringing  the 
child  away  in  safety.  This,  by  the  bye,  is  a  legend 
that  is  common  the  world  over. 

It  is  a  different  sort  of  bird  of  which  the  Thlin- 
keets,  of  British  Columbia,  tell  in  their  creation 
myth.  This  bird,  Chethl,  the  Great  Crow,  is 
almost  a  deity.  With  his  wings  he  beat  back  the 
rising  waters.     Then,  when  his  uncle  tried  to  kill 

45 


Myths  and  Legends 

him,  he  called  on  the  floods  and  deluged  the  earth, 
flying  up  to  heaven  afterward,  where  he  stuck  his 
bill  into  a  cloud  and  hung  there  till  the  water  had 
gone  down.  At  a  later  time  he  got  hold  of  the 
three  boxes  in  which  were  kept  the  sun,  moon, 
and  stars,  wrenched  the  lids  off,  and  let  the  con- 
tents shine  into  the  frightened  eyes  of  men. 

In  all  Canada  you  shall  not  find  a  creature  so 
fearful  as  the  giant  Gougou,  who  lived  on  the  St. 
Lawrence,  at  Miscou.  A  ship's  mast  in  our  day 
would  barely  have  reached  to  his  waist,  and,  saving 
that  he  had  two  eyes,  he  was  a  very  Polyphemus. 
He  would  wade  into  the  river  when  men  were 
rowing  or  sailing  past,  pick  them  up  by  thumb  and 
finger,  put  them  into  his  sack,  go  ashore,  and  draw 
them  out  to  eat  at  his  leisure.  The  shrill  whis- 
tling that  he  made  sometimes  put  the  canoe-men 
on  their  guard,  and  they  would  hurry  in  at  some 
wooded  cove  until  he  had  fed  or  gone  to  sleep  be- 
fore they  dared  to  resume  their  journey. 

The  devil,  from  whose  machinations  men  will 
ever  pray  to  be  delivered,  is  master  of  a  hundred 
subtleties,  and  changes  his  form  to  cheat  men's 
senses.  We  meet  him  in  "  Faust"  as  the  black 
dog ;  in  "  The  Monk"  as  the  terrific  form  with 
baleful  eyes,  bat's  wings,  and  an  air  of  malignant 
triumph ;  we  find  him  tempting  some  men  and 
bullying  others  ;  now  he  is  the  fiend,  and  anon  the 
gentleman.  But  where  else  than  in  Canada  will  you 
find  him  working  for  the  Church?     St.  Augustin, 

46 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

in  the  province  of  Quebec,  is  the  one  place  on  earth 
that  he  has  favored  in  this  fashion,  and  we  are  still  in 
the  dark  as  to  why  he  did  it.  He  took  on  the  shape 
of  a  monster  black  horse,  with  the  strength  of  ten 
usual  horses  in  his  thews,  and  hauled  all  the  heavy 
stone  for  the  foundations  of  the  church  that  was 
built  in  that  village  in  1690.  Was  he  looking  for 
a  chance  to  kick  the  priest  ?  Did  he  expect  that  a 
mason  or  two  would  mount  his  back,  that  he  might 
rush  into  the  St.  Lawrence  with  them  ?  Did  he  in- 
tend to  damage  the  foundations  after  he  had  helped 
to  lay  them,  that  the  sacred  edifice  might  tumble 
about  the  ears  of  his  enemies  ?  Anyhow,  he  did 
the  work,  and  did  it  well,  and  that  is  not  the  first 
time  that  his  designs  against  mankind  have  failed. 

Belle  Isle  and  Quirpon,  in  the  icy  strait  between 
Newfoundland  and  Labrador,  were  peopled  by  so 
many  devils  that  the  French  sailors  would  not  go 
ashore  unless  they  had  crucifixes  in  their  hands. 
There  was  a  peculiar  species  of  griffin,  also,  that 
was  destructive,  and  that  doubters  of  a  later  age 
assert  to  have  been  wolves,  for  as  late  as  1873 
these  animals  were  troublesome  along  the  coasts 
of  the  strait,  and  several  persons  were  killed  by 
them. 

Possibly  some  of  the  sprites  on  Prince  Edward's 
Island  have  four  feet,  because  the  mice  are  trouble- 
some there.  There  was  a  plague  of  these  little 
animals  in  the  seventeenth  century,  and  one  in 
Pictou  in  1 81 5.     They  ate  everything,  stripping 

47 


Myths  and  Legends 

the  fields  bare ;  then,  for  lack  of  other  provision, 
they  starved  by  thousands. 

Richmond  Gulf,  on  the  eastern  side  of  Hudson 
Bay,  was  the  abode  of  water  spirits  or  some  man- 
ner of  evil  creatures  who  vexed  the  waves  so  that 
they  boiled  and  tumbled  without  a  wind,  and  it 
was  a  sad  thing  for  people  in  light  canoes  to  get 
across  those  waters.  At  certain  stages  of  the  tide 
a  great  whirlpool  was  seen,  and  the  creatures  sat 
on  the  bottom,  among  the  grinding  stones,  under 
the  roaring  vortex,  waiting  with  upreached  hands 
for  the  hapless  canoeman  who  should  be  sucked  be- 
low the  sea,  that  they  might  feed  on  him.  Before 
rowing  through  the  narrow  entrance  the  natives 
performed  ceremonies  to  appease  these  evil  ones, 
after  which  they  dropped  tobacco  into  the  water, 
believing  that  the  monsters  would  smoke  it  and  be 
calmed  and  grateful  long  enough  to  enable  the  boat- 
men to  reach  shore  in  safety. 

In  some  quarters  the  ignes  fatui,  or  will-o'-the- 
wisps,  are  lanterns  carried  in  the  hands  of  spirits 
or  demons.  At  Grand  Falls,  New  Brunswick, 
where  it  is  claimed  that  these  lights  have  actually 
been  seen,  the  Indians  declare  them  to  be  the  un- 
easy souls  of  dead  folks  who  are  hunting  for  their 
bodies,  which  they  desire  to  occupy  once  more. 
If  you  would  be  without  fear  of  the  goblin  of  the 
Jack-o'-lantern,  in  French  Canada,  you  must  stop 
squarely  in  his  path  and  ask  him,  "  On  what  day 
of  the  month  falls  Christmas?" 

48 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

The  imp  answers,  in  the  Yankee  fashion,  by- 
asking,  "  Well,  what  day  is  it?" 

And  if  the  traveller  gives  the  date,  the  imp  will 
fly  before  him,  but  if  he  does  not  remember,  it 
were  better  that  he  had  held  his  peace,  for  he  will 
presently  be  torn  in  pieces. 

SOME  NAMES 

IN  the  names  of  places  we  often  find  as  great  a 
puzzle  as  in  the  names  of  people,  yet  if  we 
could  go  to  the  bottom  of  the  mystery  we  might 
discover  an  incident  or  a  faith  of  some  account ;  in 
fact,  much  history  has  been  written  in  names,  while 
a  public  temper  or  humor  is  often  disclosed  in  the 
same  way.  In  eastern  Canada  all  the  saints  in  the 
calendar,  and  some  who  do  not  belong  there,  have 
fastened  their  names  to  the  French  villages,  record- 
ing the  occupancy  and  rule  of  the  land  by  a  re- 
ligious folk.  If  we  go  west  and  find  places  called 
Hell  Roaring  Creek,  Last  Chance,  Hardscrabble, 
Silver  King,  Whoop-Up,  and  that  sort  of  thing,  it 
indicates  a  people  whose  motives  are  less  religious 
than  material,  and  who  succeed  in  getting  fun  out 
of  difficulties.  The  devil  has  fared  in  the  West 
as  well  as  the  saints  in  the  East,  in  which  more 
peaceful  district  others  have  had  in  a  few  cases  to 
take  the  brunt  of  his  unpopularity,  for  Devil's  Head, 
New  Brunswick,  was  named  for  a  settler  named 
Duval.  Hard  luck  for  Duval !  Old  France  and 
4  49 


Myths  and  Legends 

Old  England  have  often  been  drawn  upon,  while 
the  strong,  quaint,  often  musical  speech  of  the  ab- 
origines is  perpetuated  in  too  few  lakes  and  rivers. 
Anglicism  of  names  sometimes  results  oddly,  as  in  the 
conversion  of  Chapeau  Dieu  to  Shapody  Mountain, 
and  of  Portage  du  Rat  to  Rat  Portage.  Though 
the  two  latter  are  the  same,  yet  locally  the  French 
rat  stands  for  muskrat,  and  the  same  word  in  Eng- 
lish does  not.  Montreal  is  the  Royal  Mountain ; 
Smoky  Cape,  or  Cap  Enfume,  is  so  called  because 
of  the  mists  that  toss  about  it ;  Quebec  is  "  Quel 
bee  !"  ("  What  a  cape  !")  that  being  the  exclama- 
tion of  its  discoverers  (unless  it  is  true  that  there  is 
an  Indian  word,  Quebego,  meaning  narrow  river), 
while  at  Ha-ha  Bay  the  Frenchmen  laughed  with 
joy  at  sight  of  the  green  expanse  after  their  voy- 
age up  the  Saguenay.  We  have  forgotten  what 
haunted  Bleak  House,  where  the  commandant  of 
Quebec  once  lived,  but  we  know  that  Sauk  de 
Matelot,  in  the  same  city,  is  so  called  because  a 
sailor,  who  had  been  relieving  at  a  tavern  "  the  en- 
forced horrors  of  a  long  sobriety,"  leaped  off  to 
escape  a  troop  of  yellow  giraffes  and  pink  monkeys 
with  horses'  tails. 

Lachine,  or  La  Chine,  means  China,  because  the 
St.  Lawrence  was  first  thought  to  be  a  northwest 
passage  to  that  land.  This  is  the  old  name,  but  in 
other  cases  such  changes  have  been  made  by  later 
comers  that  it  is  hard  to  recognize  the  originals. 
The  Portuguese  Baya  Fondo  is  not  so  different  from 

5o 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

the  Bay  of  Fundy,  the  Shubenacadie,  haunted  by 
ghosts  of  fishermen  caught  in  its  tides,  is  heard 
under  the  common  "  Shippenackety,"  we  guess  that 
Blow-me-down  is  Blomidon,  but  who  would  sup- 
pose that  Acadie  was  the  Micmac  word  Quoddy  ? 
In  fact,  some  believe  that  the  name  was  borrowed 
from  the  other  side  of  the  sea,  to  denote  the  dis- 
covery of  a  New-World  Arcadia. 

The  turbulent  Newfoundlanders,  who,  being 
mostly  Celtic,  are  thorns  in  the  sides  of  the  Cana- 
dian and  English  governments,  have  not  recorded 
in  their  names  the  fires,  the  riots,  the  shootings, 
the  lurings  to  wreck,  the  extermination  of  the  Boe- 
thuks,  or  other  incidents  that  have  made  the  history 
of  their  island  exciting,  and  the  traveller  wonders 
what  may  have  been  the  original  meanings  of  Ex- 
ploits, Topsail,  Killigrew's,  Joe  Batt's  Arm,  Seldom- 
come-by,  Little-seldom-come-by,  Fogo,  Brigus, 
Hell  Hill,  Quiddy  Viddy,  Bally  Haly,  Maggoty 
Cove,  Heart's  Content,  Bay  of  Despair,  Dead 
Islands,  and  Rose  Blanche. 

Because  Cartier  happened  to  reach  it  in  a  time 
of  sultry  weather,  we  have  the  Baie  des  Chaleurs. 
There  is  little  doubt  that  Stanstead,  province  of 
Quebec,  is  named  after  one  of  the  three  Stansteads 
in  England,  yet  it  is  alleged  that  the  surveyors  who 
laid  off  the  township  were  a  drunken  lot,  and  were 
often  heard  calling  to  their  chainmen,  and  even  to 
their  theodolites,  to  "  stan'  stead'  "  (stand  steady), 
when  it  was  their  own  legs  that  were  out  of  plumb. 

5i 


Myths  and  Legends 

And,  apropos  of  thirst,  More-Rum  Brook,  in  Yar- 
mouth County,  Nova  Scotia,  has  been  a  name  of 
dread  to  prohibitionists,  and  is  likely  to  be  changed 
lo  Smith's  "  Crick"  as  soon  as  they  can  acquire  suf- 
ficient influence,  as  in  its  present  form  it  is  wicked. 
Sundry  years  ago,  when  a  surveyor  was  going  over 
this  region,  his  chain-bearers  and  others  constantly 
clamored  for  strong  waters,  finally  refusing  to  budge 
until  they  had  some  grog.  The  surveyor  had  sent 
to  a  distance  for  the  rum,  and  told  his  reprehensible 
associates  to  drink  from  the  brook  until  they  got  it. 
That  is  how  it  came  to  be  More-Rum  Brook. 

In  upper  Lake  Huron  lies  the  chain  of  Manitou- 
lins,  large  islands  now  occupied  by  graziers  and 
farmers,  but  formerly  a  favorite  visiting-place  of 
the  Indians.  They  never  abode  there  long,  for 
they  looked  on  the  islands  as  dwelling-places  of  the 
spirits  of  the  earth,  water,  and  air,  spirits  that 
required  reverence  and  propitiation,  and  they  dared 
not  attempt  familiarity.  Manitoulin  means  spirit- 
land,  or  land  of  the  gods.  Manitoba,  likewise, 
preserves  the  name  of  the  Manitou,  or  Great  Spirit. 
That  name  applied  originally  to  Lake  Manitoba, 
whose  waters  the  Indians  believed  to  be  stirred  by 
the  spirit. 

Moose  Jaw  is  only  a  contraction  of  "  Place- 
where-the-  white-man-mended-his-cart-  wheel  -with- 
the-jawbone-of-a-moose,',  which  was  thought  to  be 
too  numerous  a  name  for  busy  people.  Calling 
River  commemorates  an  echo,  and  Pipestone  River 

52 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

refers  to  the  material  from  which  the  red  men  make 
their  ceremonial  pipes.  Pie  Island  and  the  Sleep- 
ing Giant,  known  to  voyagers  on  Lake  Superior, 
have  reference  only  to  the  outlines  of  those  heights, 
but  the  Petits  Ecrits  was  so  called  because  of  the 
picture-writings  found  on  the  face  of  the  rock, 
representing  men,  animals,  and  canoes  cut  in  the 
lichen.  West  of  the  Wild-Cat  Hills  Ghost  River 
flows  past  the  column-like  mountain  of  Devil's 
Head.  Old  maps  call  the  river  Dead  Man's  Creek. 
The  Assiniboins  are  responsible  for  both  names, 
since  they  declare  it  to  be  haunted  by  the  ghost  of 
an  old  chief  who  rides  up  and  down  its  banks  on  a 
horse.  Devil's  Lake,  near  Banff,  was  a  resort  of 
malignant  spirits,  and  Cascade  River,  its  outlet, 
was  the  scene  of  a  murder  in  which  the  victim's 
head  was  struck  from  his  shoulders.  A  cave  on 
the  Bow  near  Canmore  is  haunted  by  a  spirit,  and 
is  held  in  much  regard  by  the  natives.  Near  Banff 
is  Stony  Squaw  Mountain,  thus  called  from  the 
tradition  that  when  an  old  man  of  the  Stony  tribe 
lay  ill  and  helpless  in  his  lodge  at  the  foot  of  this 
height,  his  old  wife  took  his  weapons  and  did  a 
man's  work  as  hunter,  killing  enough  big-horns  to 
feed  them  both  until  he  recovered.  Dr.  James 
Hector,  exploring  the  Canadian  Rockies  in  1857, 
was  kicked  by  his  horse  in  the  shadow  of  Mount 
Stephen.  Hence  we  have  Kicking  Horse  Pass. 
The  name  Wapta,  applied  to  the  stream  that  flows 
through  it,  means  only  river.     Wait-a-Bit  Creek 

S3 


Myths  and  Legends 

was  so  called  by  the  first  explorers,  who  were  con- 
stantly fetched  up  with  a  short  turn  by  a  brier  that 
grows  thickly  along  its  shores.  When  caught  by 
the  thorns,  the  victims  called  to  their  companions 
to  "  Wait  a  bit."  The  Arctic-looking  Hermit 
Mountain  on  the  north  side  of  Rogers'  Pass  takes 
its  name  from  a  shape  of  stone  far  up  under  the 
sky.  It  looks  like  a  cowled  hermit  talking  to  a  dog. 
Close  by  is  Cheops,  recalling  the  Egyptian  pyramid 
by  its  form  as  well  as  its  name.  Mount  Grizzly 
explains  itself,  and  Asulkan  means  wild  goat. 

Sibilants  multiply  as  we  near  the  Pacific,  for  the 
Siwash — probably  a  corruption  of  Sauvage — inter- 
sperse many  j's  in  their  weak,  choking,  clicking 
language,  as  we  find  in  Spuzzum,  Spatsum,  Scuzzy, 
Snohomish,  Squallyamish,  Shuswap,  Sicamous,  Spal- 
lumsheen,  Sumas,  Skagit,  Similkameen,  Osyoos, 
Spokane,  Semiamoo,  Swinonish,  Stillaguamish, 
Nooksak,  and  Snoqualmie.  These  uncouth  names 
often  have  agreeable  meanings,  however.  Lee's 
Post,  on  Pincher  Creek,  suffered  so  from  the  cold 
that  its  name  came  to  be  Freeze  Out.  Slide-Out, 
on  Belly  River,  was  convenient  to  hiding-places  to 
which  traders  in  unlawful  whiskey  "  slid  out"  when 
the  mounted  police  approached,  and  at  Stand-Off 
the  traders  kept  a  band  of  marauding  Indians  at 
bay.  Polly  Cow's  Island,  in  Katchevvanook  Lake, 
is  named  for  an  Indian  girl  who  is  buried  there. 
Handsome  Jack,  an  Otonabee  River  Indian,  had 
courted  her,  but,  believing  that  she  was  not  strong 

54 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

enough  to  do  his  housework,  he  married   a  more 
buxom  damsel,  and  Polly  pined  into  her  grave. 

Juan  de  Fuca,  the  old  Greek  pilot,  found  the 
strait  that  bears  his  name  in  I  592,  but  for  a  century 
or  more  thereafter  this  region  was  half  mythical. 
Bacon  thought  it  a  safe  place  for  his  Atlantis,  and 
Swift  for  his  land  of  giants,  Brobdingnag.  The 
old  Indian,  Spanish,  and  Russian  names  were  com- 
placently wiped  off  from  the  map  by  Mr.  Van- 
couver, who  fixed  his  own  name  on  a  great  island, 
while  Puget  Sound  and  Mount  Baker  celebrate  a 
couple  of  his  shipmates.  Mount  Tacoma  was 
called  Mount  Rainier  to  flatter  an  Englishman 
who  never  saw  it.  Captain  Gray,  of  Boston,  was 
leaving  Puget  Sound  as  Vancouver  entered  it  in  the 
Discovery,  but  any  names  that  the  Americans  ap- 
pended to  the  islands,  capes,  and  mountains  were 
not  allowed  to  stay. 

TROUBLES  ON   THE   ST.   LAWRENCE 

THE  St.  Lawrence  is  a  river  of  many  myste- 
ries and  troubles.  Blood  has  often  mingled 
with  its  waters,  the  blood  of  French  and  English, 
Christian  and  savage,  soldier  and  martyr.  From 
the  lakes  to  the  gulf  its  surface  has  been  vexed  by 
the  keels  of  fighting  fleets,  and  its  shores  have 
echoed  to  the  roar  of  cannon.  So  late  as  1838  it 
was  a  scene  of  hostilities,  for  in  that  year  the  Brit- 
ish ship  Sir  Robert  Peel  was  burned  among  the 

55 


Myths  and  Legends 

Thousand  Islands  by  a  harum-scarum  band  of  men 
who  wanted  to  establish  a  republic  in  Canada. 
"  Bill"  Johnson,  leader  of  this  company,  kept  out 
of  sight  for  some  time  after,  his  daughter  Kate  row- 
ing him  from  one  island  to  another,  and  keeping 
him  in  food  during  the  search  that  the  Canadians 
made  for  him.  Part  of  the  time  he  was  at  the 
Devil's  Oven.  It  is  told  of  Johnson  that  he  was 
trapped  on  Wells  Island  by  Captain  Boyd,  of  the 
English  army.  "  I'm  fairly  caught,"  he  confessed, 
"  and  you've  had  a  long  row  after  me,  so  you  must 
be  thirsty.  Take  a  drink  and  rest  yourself."  The 
officer  dropped  upon  a  bench  and  took  a  good  tug 
at  the  outlaw's  flask,  while  Johnson  lighted  his 
pipe  and,  holding  the  coal  in  a  tongs  over  a  barrel, 
remarked,  in  a  matter-of-fact  way,  "  Shall  I  go  with 
you,  or  will  you  stay  and  go  to  hell  with  me  ?  This 
barrel  is  full  of  powder."  The  captain  excused 
himself,  and  scrambled  for  his  boats  along  with  his 
men,  for  Johnson  had  put  the  coal  on  the  barrel- 
head, and  it  was  eating  into  the  wood.  In  a  minute 
there  was  a  big  explosion,  and  a  great  smoke  rolled 
from  the  cave-mouth.  Captain  Boyd  hoped  that  it 
meant  the  last  of  Johnson  ;  but  that  reprobate  was 
out  of  sight  in  a  new  hiding-place  before  the  oars 
of  the  red-coats  were  fairly  in  the  water. 

These  islands  have  been  famed  in  Cooper's 
"  Pathfinder"  and  in  the  verse  of  Thomas  Moore, 
who  also  celebrates  the  village  of  Sainte  Anne  in 
his  "  Boat  Song."     Near  Prescott  is  the  windmill, 

56 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

now  a  light-house,  where  a  company  of  "  patriots," 
under  lead  of  a  Polish  exile,  held  out  against  Can- 
ada for  several  days,  in  the  belief  that  the  prov- 
ince needed  to  be  "  liberated"  from  something  or 
somebody,  while  many  Americans  sat  watching 
on  their  own  side  of  the  river,  occasionally  saying 
"  Hooray  !"  There  are  tales  of  perilous  descents 
by  fugitives  and  Indians  of  the  rapids  that  tourists 
view  languidly  from  steamer-decks.  Even  now 
the  habitant  on  its  banks  shudders  when  an  owl 
cries,  for  he  remembers  the  stories  told  by  his 
grandmother,  in  the  firelight,  of  feux  follets  and 
loups  garous,  which  are  demons  that  watch  for  the 
souls  of  the  unrepentant  and  the  unbaptized.  On 
the  pass  of  the  Long  Sault,  on  the  river's  left  bank, 
occurred  one  of  the  stoutest  fights  in  history. 
Learning  that  a  large  war-party  of  Iroquois  had 
set  off  to  destroy  the  infant  colonies  of  Montreal 
and  Quebec,  the  Sieur  des  Ormaux,  better  known 
by  his  baptismal  name  of  Dollard,  hurried  away  to 
stop  the  advance,  and  at  least  gain  time  for  prepa- 
ration. He  had  only  sixteen  white  men  and  two 
faithful  Hurons,  and  his  shelter  was  of  the  hastiest 
and  slightest '  yet  for  three  days  of  hunger,  thirst, 
and  sleeplessness  this  Spartan  band  withstood  the 
assault  of  at  least  five  hundred  savages,  greedy  for 
their  blood,  and,  although  every  man  in  the  defences 
died,  the  Indians  were  so  convinced  of  the  futility 
of  war  against  so  brave  a  people  that  they  went 
back  to  their  homes.     In  the  stillness  of  the  night 

57 


Myths  and  Legends 

is  it  the  rumor  of  the  rapids,  making  the  Long 
Sault,  that  is  heard,  or  is  it  the  sound  of  battle  that 
nature  would  forget  but  cannot  while  evil  spirits 
dwell  on  earth  ? 

Nor  have  all  the  wicked  spirits  run  away  from 
the  travellers  with  red  guide-books,  nor  hidden 
among  the  trees  when  they  saw  the  train  or  steamer 
coming,  nor  covered  their  ears  or  glared  in  envy 
when  they  heard  some  frenzied  stranger  making 
remarks  into  a  dilatory  telephone.  Old  residents 
near  the  Cape  of  Crows  will  tell  you  that  the  black- 
birds that  flap  and  squall  among  the  mists  are  devils 
and  bring  bad  luck  to  sailors,  while  there  are  big- 
ger devils  in  the  clouds  that  swirl  around  the  cape, 
and  devils  in  the  earth  likewise,  for  this  region  is 
occasionally  shaken  by  earthquake.  In  1663  an 
earthquake  along  the  north  shore  was  attributed  by 
the  Indians  near  Montreal  to  the  return  of  the 
spirits  of  their  ancestors  from  the  happy  hunting- 
grounds.  The  poor  souls  wanted  a  change  of  diet. 
As  there  was  not  game  enough  for  both  the  living 
and  the  dead,  the  Indians  fired  their  muskets  to 
scare  their  parents  back  again.  And,  sure  enough, 
the  dead  and  good  Indians  ceased  from  troubling 
after  a  few  months,  and  went  back  to  the  Sand  Hills. 
That  was  a  year  of  great  distress  to  the  people 
along  the  river.  Every  time  the  earth  shook  some 
of  them  remembered  that  they  had  not  said  their 
prayers,  and  others  hurried  to  confess  that  they 
had  sold  fire-water  to  the  Indians.     The  frightened 

58 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

ones  were  either  driven  to  drink  or  turned  from  all 
but  enough  of  it.  There  were  many  land-slides, 
and  the  river  ran  white  as  far  as  Tadousac.  "  Me- 
teors, fiery-winged  serpents,  and  ghastly  spectres 
were  seen  in  the  air ;  roarings  and  mysterious 
voices  sounded  on  every  side."  The  Pointe  aux 
Trembles  and  Les  Eboulements  preserve  in  their 
names  the  record  of  these  quakes,  while,  for  strange 
reasons,  the  Isle  of  Orleans  has  been  full  of  gob- 
lins ever  since. 

The  Montagnais  tell  of  a  giant,  Outikon,  who, 
being  evil,  fled  before  the  cross  of  the  missionaries 
from  Les  Islets  Machins,  where  another  cannibal 
monster  succeeded  him,  and  found  a  home  at  Lake 
Mistassini,  where  the  Nashkapiouts  live,  who  never 
pray  and  never  wash ;  and  to  show  his  rage  at 
Christians  he  stamps  his  feet  every  now  and  again, 
shaking  the  hills  to  their  foundations.  It  used  to 
be  said  that  there  was  a  volcano  on  the  Height  of 
Land,  south  of  Hudson  Bay,  and  that  the  earth- 
quakes followed  its  eruption. 

The  various  saints  who  are  invoked  on  such  oc- 
casions do  not  keep  the  imps  from  congregating 
about  the  Pointe  de  Tous  les  Diables  in  its  glooms 
and  storms.  Behind  this  cape  is  Carder's  land  of 
gold  and  rubies,  peopled  by  white  men  clothed  in 
wool.  (Legendary  vikings?)  Farther  north  is  a 
race  that  frightened  back  the  first  explorers,  a  peo- 
ple who  had  only  one  leg  apiece  and  not  a  stomach 
among  them  all.     They  lived  on  scenery.     Better 

59 


Myths  and  Legends 

such  than  some  of  the  more  usual  red  men  of  a 
later  date.  There  were  the  Hurons  and  Senecas, 
for  example,  who,  after  living  in  peace  together  at 
Hochelaga  for  years,  suddenly  fell  to  cutting  one  an- 
other's weasands  and  barbering  one  another's  hair. 
This  was  a  little  before  Champlain's  arrival,  and  the 
traditionary  reason  for  it  is  that  a  Seneca  chief  had 
refused  to  allow  his  son  to  marry  a  Huron  girl.  In 
high  wrath  at  this  slight,  the  young  woman  prom- 
ised herself  to  any  one  who  should  kill  the  old  man, 
and  on  these  terms  she  was  won  by  a  young  brave 
of  her  own  tribe  ;  but  in  the  war  that  followed  the 
Hurons  were  nearly  exterminated. 

And  what  shadowy  craft  beat  about  the  turbulent 
river,  with  its  sea  width  of  mouth,  in  night  and 
storm,  or  flit  among  the  fantastic  pictures  of  the 
mirage  !  There  is  the  Flying  Dutchman,  who  has 
been  known  to  put  in  among  the  bays  in  the  access 
of  a  fearful  thirst,  and  sail  away  again,  gnashing 
his  stomach  with  his  fists  and  talking  improper  lan- 
guage. And  there  is  Roberval,  who  ascended  the 
Saguenay  and  never  came  down  in  the  flesh.  He, 
too,  skims  over  the  river,  against  the  wind,  and  with 
no  wind.  And  Henry  Hudson,  abandoned  by  mu- 
tineers, with  his  son  and  six  faithful  sailors,  in  his 
open  boat,  amid  the  icy  waters  that  bear  his  name 
in  mocking  compensation  for  his  suffering, — does 
he  not  work  his  way  up  the  St.  Lawrence  when, 
on  every  twentieth  year,  he  sets  off  to  hold  revel 
in  his  beloved  Catskills  ?     In  autumn  the  giant  rock 

60 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

of  Perce,  through  whose  now  fallen  arches  sloops 
used  to  sail,  looks  down  on  a  phantom  ship  that 
has  been  cruising  up  and  down  the  bay  since  171 1. 
It  is  one  of  the  ships  of  Admiral  Hovenden  Walker 
that  was  hurled  in  a  gale  against  Cap  d'Espoir, — 
ignorantly  yet  fitly  Englished  into  Cape  Despair. 
Walker  had  captured  an  old  sea-dog,  one  Jean  Pa- 
radis,  and  had  ordered  him  to  guide  his  ships  to 
Quebec,  that  he  might  surprise  the  French  in  that 
stronghold.  Paradis  stoutly  refused,  and  in  the  at- 
tempt to  ascend  the  river  not  only  the  phantom 
bark  but  eight  transports  were  smashed  on  the  Isle 
of  Eggs,  and  a  thousand  red-coats  slept  on  the  bot- 
tom that  night.  This  ghostly  ship  had  the  cap- 
tain's wife  on  board,  and  as  it  strikes  the  rock  an 
officer  and  a  woman  in  white  are  seen  at  the  bow, 
clasped  in  each  other's  arms,  while  the  air  is  filled 
with  wailing  as  the  form  of  the  vessel  cracks  and 
fills.  The  rock  itself,  three  hundred  and  fifty  feet 
high,  has  its  own  "  haunt," — a  water  wraith  who 
climbs  to  the  top  and  cries  among  the  flocks  of  sea- 
birds. 

Something  is  remembered  of  old  Gamache,  the 
wrecker,  who  has  not  troubled  mariners  much,  it 
is  true,  since  they  found  him  dead  in  his  cabin  on 
the  Isle  of  Wrecks,  but  who  had  been  seen  enter- 
taining the  devil  off  Anticosti,  and  who  when 
chased  by  government  cutters  appeared  to  envelop 
his  boat  and  himself  in  blue  flame  and  dance  off" 
across  the  river,  regardless  of  call  or  shot. 

61 


Myths  and  Legends 

More  dreaded  than  these  spirits  is  the  woman  of 
the  o'er-kind  eyes.  She,  too,  affects  the  region  of 
the  Perce  Rock,  and  appears  in  the  twilight  putting 
off  from  shore  in  a  light  boat,  rowed  with  a  sin- 
gularly noiseless  stroke  by  a  man  whose  face  is 
never  clearly  seen.  She  asks  a  passing  captain  to 
give  her  fare  as  far  as  Quebec,  and,  as  these  river- 
men  are  seldom  so  pressed  that  they  cannot  slack  up 
for  a  passenger,  the  skipper  backs  his  mainsail  and 
takes  the  woman  aboard,  while  the  ferryman  who 
has  brought  her  rows  away  into  the  mist.  She  is 
queerly  dressed,  and  wears  a  blood-red  scarf, — one 
that  is  yet  no  redder  than  her  lips.  And  immedi- 
ately the  woman  begins  to  make  eyes  at  the  captain. 
Her  interest  seldom  fails  of  a  return,  for  a  tender- 
ness toward  the  sex  is  a  fatal  weakness  in  sailors, 
and  soon  the  two  are  deep  in  talk  in  the  shadow  of 
the  sail.  Whether  it  is  that  the  captain  does  not 
see  the  green  light  in  her  eyes,  the  cat-like  gleam 
that  sends  a  shiver  through  the  crew,  or  whether 
the  vessel  goes  wide  of  her  course  because  all  eyes 
are  on  the  woman,  it  certainly  happens  that  before 
eight  bells  have  gone  for  midnight  on  passing  ves- 
sels the  ship  is  pounding  to  pieces  on  a  reef  and 
with  a  shrill  laugh  the  woman  has  disappeared. 


62 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

AMERICAN  ELEPHANTS 

THIRTY  years  ago  buffalo  fed  up  and  down 
our  plains  for  thousands  of  miles,  the  herds 
sometimes  a  league  across  and  seven  in  length.  Now 
these  great  animals  are  practically  extinct, — slaugh- 
tered for  the  amusement  of  "  sporting"  men,  who 
left  them  to  rot  on  the  earth  and  the  Indians  to 
hunger  for  lack  of  buffalo  meat.  Not  in  like  way, 
nor  from  mere  love  of  blood,  yet  even  more  com- 
pletely have  our  elephants  been  killed.  Elephants  ? 
Ay,  truly.  Some  of  the  largest,  strongest,  most 
savage  of  the  tribe  had  their  home  in  this  Western 
world  during  the  age  of  men.  Their  skeletons 
have  been  found  in  our  marshes,  and  the  separate 
teeth  and  bones  were  a  cause  of  dispute  and 
wonderment  among  the  wise  men  of  recent  centu- 
ries. Cotton  Mather,  discoverer  of  mares'-nests  and 
witches,  mentions  a  thigh-bone  seventeen  feet  long  ! 
and  Governor  Dudley  told  him  that  it  pertained  to 
a  giant  "  for  whom  the  flood  only  could  prepare  a 
funeral ;  and  without  doubt  he  waded  as  long  as  he 
could  keep  his  head  above  the  clouds,  but  must  at 
length  be  confounded,  with  all  other  creatures." 
Afterward  it  was  decided  that  the  bones  must  have 
belonged  to  a  colossal  lion  that  ate  two  or  three 
horses  at  a  meal  and  roared  so  when  he  was  hungry 
that  the  earth  shook.  Not  until  Cuvier's  time  was 
it  agreed  that  the  monster  was  a  species  of  elephant, 
that  it  was  extinct,  and  that  it  would  have  eaten 

63 


Myths  and  Legends 

neither  man  nor  horses  when  alive.  Old  beliefs 
die  hard,  all  the  same,  and  it  is  hardly  more  than 
fifty  years  since  a  Southern  "  scientist"  fixed  up  the 
bones  of  a  mastodon  in  the  likeness  of  a  human  being, 
raised  it  on  its  hind  legs,  covered  its  head  with  raw 
hide,  and  proclaimed  it  a  giant.  Another  mastodon 
was  grotesquely  put  together  and  advertised  as  the 
Biblical  leviathan,  which  was  supposed  to  anchor 
itself  to  trees  by  its  curved  tusks  and  sleep  on  the 
face  of  the  waters.  On  the  Pacific  slope  the  bones 
of  mastodons  are  found  in  the  gravels,  mingled  with 
human  bones  and  stone  arrow-heads,  showing  that 
men  and  mastodons  lived  together,  for  the  elephan- 
tine species  survived  here  later  than  in  Europe.  In 
Mexico  not  only  are  the  bones  found,  but  there  are 
sculptures  in  which  the  elephant  is  represented,  and 
our  own  Indians  portray  it  in  the  forms  of  pipes 
and  in  drawings  scratched  on  stone.  In  Louisiana 
the  red  men  said  that  crows  had  gone  to  feed  on  the 
flesh  of  an  immense  animal  that  had  died  near  the 
stream  they  called,  because  of  this  incident,  Carrion 
Crow  Creek.  A  mastodon's  thigh  was  exhibited 
to  Cortes  as  that  of  a  giant,  one  of  a  race  of  evil 
men  whom  the  Aztecs  had  succeeded  in  destroying, 
after  long  years  of  war.  In  South  America  similar 
traditions  existed.  On  the  Parana  it  was  said  that 
the  creature  burrowed  in  the  bluffs,  but  in  the  pam- 
pas of  the  Argentine  states  it  was  a  Titan  again,  and 
"  Field  of  Giants"  and  "  Hill  of  the  Giants"  are 
names  that  occur  there. 

64 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

The  Delawares  had  a  legend  of  a  wholesale  de- 
struction of  bear,  deer,  elk,  buffalo,  and  other  ani- 
mals by  the  mastodons,  which  they  called  "  big 
buffalo  ;"  but  before  the  mischief  had  gone  far  the 
Great  Spirit  grasped  his  lightning,  stepped  out  of 
heaven,  the  prints  of  his  feet  being  left  on  a  rock  at 
Big  Bone  Lick,  and  killed  the  monsters  right  and 
left.  One  old  bull  was  tougher  than  the  lightning. 
As  the  bolts  fell  on  his  forehead  he  shook  them  off, 
and  for  some  time  he  stood,  daring  the  Great  Spirit. 
At  length  a  stroke  fell  on  his  side,  and  smarting  and 
trumpeting  he  galloped  off  toward  the  northwest, 
clearing  all  the  rivers  and  the  great  lakes  in  power- 
ful leaps,  and  there  in  Alberta,  or  British  Columbia, 
he  still  lives,  with  a  few  subdued  associates.  Be- 
side these  creatures,  the  natives  say,  all  other  animals 
are  as  insects ;  their  skin  is  proof  against  arrows,  and 
they  have  "  an  arm"  that  they  use  as  we  do  ours, — 
of  course,  a  trunk.  Still  farther  north,  in  the  re- 
gion of  the  great,  lonely  lakes,  we  hear  that  the 
fathers  of  the  Indian  tribes  had  to  build  their  houses 
on  piles  in  the  water,  like  the  ancient  dwellings  of 
the  Swiss,  in  order  to  escape  assault  from  the  ele- 
phants, who  ravaged  the  whole  country. 


65 


Myths  and  Legends 

HIDDEN  GOLD 

WAS  ever  a  place  or  a  time  where  and  when 
the  people  did  not  believe  in  hidden 
wealth  ?  There  is  a  peculiar  charm  in  the  rare, 
the  hinted,  and  the  unseen  that  leads  some  classes 
to  conceal  even  their  wisdom,  while  others  reveal  it 
only  to  the  initiated.  In  common  with  the  United 
States,  the  British  provinces  were  hiding-places  for 
the  gold  of  pirates,  of  misers,  of  adventurers,  and 
of  fugitives,  and  ever  and  anon  it  enters  some  head, 
that  might  be  better  occupied,  to  search  for  this 
treasure.  Money  is  spent  in  the  seeking,  but  little 
is  taken  in  return.  Hard-minded  men  say  the  rea- 
son is  that  there  is  none  to  be  taken.  Certain  who 
are  more  open  to  conviction  declare  the  reason 
to  be  a  pernicious  activity  of  ghosts  and  goblins  in 
guarding  the  hoard,  for  it  was  a  practice  with  pi- 
rates to  kill  one  of  their  comrades  and  bury  him  atop 
of  the  chest  or  keg  of  doubloons,  that  his  spirit 
might  haunt  the  spot  and  scare  away  intruders. 
Any  self-respecting  pirate  of  this  nineteenth  century 
would  be  so  disgusted  by  this  treachery  of  his  ship- 
mates that  when  he  came  up  out  of  the  sand  and 
found  himself  dead  he  would  bid  all  his  comrades 
go  hang — as  they  would  be  sure  to  do  anyway — and 
would  trudge  away  to  a  warmer  clime  and  more 
congenial  occupations.  Captain  Kidd,  who  really 
did  bury  one  box  of  valuables  on  Gardiner's  Island, 
New  York,  where  it  was  found,  was  consequently 

66 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

suspected  of  having  salted  the  whole  Atlantic  coast 
with  crowns  and  cob  dollars,  but  if  so  he  died 
keeping  his  secret.  A  rumor  that  a  part  of  this 
wealth  was  deposited  on  the  shore  near  Halifax 
has  created  some  anxious  guesses  as  to  where. 

Probably  the  most  touching  spectacle  of  confi- 
dence exhibited  to  the  gaze  of  nations  was  that  of- 
fered by  the  people  who  dug  over  Oak  Island,  near 
Chester,  Nova  Scotia,  in  search  of  this  treasure  of 
Kidd's,  for  they  went  down  into  the  earth  a  hun- 
dred feet.  As  if  busy  pirates  had  time  to  dig  graves 
of  half  that  depth  for  their  earnings  !  But  they 
found  masonry  and  timber,  and  do  not  guess  their 
meaning. 

A  few  miles  away,  near  the  Dutch  town  of  Lu- 
nenburg, are  the  Ovens, — sea-worn  caves  in  a  cliffof 
gold-bearing  rock, — that  were  much  likelier  hiding- 
places  for  treasure,  because  a  great  fear  of  the  Ovens 
has  existed  since  the  time  when  an  Indian,  being 
swept  into  the  biggest  of  them,  was  carried  to  the 
interior  of  the  earth  and  presently  cast  up  among 
the  Tuskets,  with  his  geography  mixed  and  his 
shins  bruised.  Dark  Cove  and  Money  Cove,  on 
Grand  Manan,  are  reputed  burial-places  for  a  part 
of  the  Kidd  gains. 

Dead  Man's  Cove,  sometime  known  as  such  to 
the  people  about  Grand  Pre,  was  one  of  Kidd's 
banks,  and  in  after-years  an  effort  was  made  to  res- 
urrect the  treasure,  a  fortune-teller  having  given 
minute  directions  where  to  find  it.     It  was  a  calm, 

67 


Myths  and  Legends 

clear  night  of  moonshine  when  the  seekers,  after 
long  work,  struck  their  spades  against  a  crock,  and, 
opening  the  lid,  felt  their  hearts  dance  within  them, 
for  it  was  full  to  the  brim  with  Spanish  dollars.  As 
they  plunged  deeper  to  free  the  pot  from  the  close- 
packed  clay,  one  of  them  found  that  the  iron  had 
pierced  a  skull, — the  skull  of  the  murdered  watcher. 
Almost  on  the  instant  there  fell  a  bolt  of  lightning, 
accompanied  by  an  appalling  roar  of  thunder.  A 
blast  of  wind  blew  out  the  lanterns  and  tipped  one 
man  over,  so  that  work  ceased  then  and  there.  It 
is  said  that  if  one  of  the  seekers  is  killed  on  the 
spot  the  spell  will  be  lifted.  Some  gold  is  alleged 
to  have  been  taken  from  a  farm  on  Campobello 
by  adventurers  who  promised  to  share  it  with  the 
owner  of  the  property  if  they  found  it.  Perhaps 
they  didn't  find  it.  Anyway,  they  never  happened 
around  to  share  it. 

Then  there  was  the  Frenchman  Clairieux,  who 
buried  several  boxes  of  money  on  Grand  Island,  in 
Niagara  River,  where  a  handful  of  ancient  pieces 
was  found  two  centuries  later,  and  Fontenoy, 
another  Frenchman,  who  buried  his  money — he 
had  made  it  by  cheating  the  Indians — in  a  brass  ket- 
tle at  Presque  Isle,  near  Detroit.  At  the  ancient 
forges  on  the  St.  Maurice  River — which  are  the 
oldest  smelters  of  iron  in  America,  unless  that  dis- 
tinction can  be  proved  for  the  smelter  at  Prin- 
cipio,  Maryland — the  French  authority  was  repre- 
sented by  a  governor  who  lived  in  a  stately  chateau 

68 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

near  by.  When  the  English  took  Canada  they 
heard  rumors  of  the  manufacture  of  shot  and  can- 
non in  these  forges,  and  forthwith  a  detachment 
of  red-coats  appeared  before  the  place,  demanding 
the  surrender  of  everything  and  everybody.  The 
governor  was  absent  at  the  time,  but  Demoiselle 
Poulin,  a  young  relative,  who  spoke  for  him,  threw 
the  keys  into  the  river  rather  than  give  them  up. 
The  English  then  entered  the  chateau  and  the 
forge  by  force  ;  but  it  is  said  that  the  delay  caused 
by  Demoiselle  Poulin's  obduracy  was  long  enough 
to  enable  the  servants  and  workmen  to  bury  many 
of  the  valuables  about  the  premises.  So,  when 
dim  lights  and  shadowy  shapes  are  seen  about  the 
ruins,  the  traveller  knows  that  the  old  governor  and 
his  domestics  are  trying  to  discover  where  they  hid 
their  gold. 

It  is  sad  that  the  great  block  of  lapis  lazuli 
should  have  disappeared,  for  it  was  "  worth  ten 
crowns  an  ounce."  It  lay  two  or  three  miles  off 
the  island  of  Grand  Manan,  and  was  a  guide  to 
mariners  aiming  to  enter  St.  John  River.  An  offi- 
cer, who  broke  off  the  piece  that  was  valued  as 
above,  and  the  veracious  Charlevoix,  are  authority 
for  this  rock.  It  is  worth  dredging  to  the  surface, 
maybe. 

And  as  Mount  Washington  had  its  carbuncle 
that  lighted  the  clouds  with  a  ruddy  glow  at  night, 
so  the  great  cliff  of  six  hundred  feet  that  guards  the 
entrance  to  the  Basin  of  Minas  has  its  enormous 

69 


Myths  and  Legends 

Diamond  of  Blomidon.  It  is  seen  flashing  from 
afar,  but  every  attempt  of  seekers  to  wrest  the  gem 
from  the  mocking  spirits  of  the  crag  has  been  a 
failure.  Copper  you  find  there,  and  agate,  ame- 
thysts, garnets,  and  beautiful  zeolites,  but  the  dia- 
mond dims  as  you  approach  it,  and  close  at  hand 
fades  utterly  from  view. 

Wreck,  more  often  -than  Piracy,  threw  wealth 
on  the  shores  of  Sable  Island,  "  land  of  sand  and 
ruin  and  gold,"  "  the  charnel-house  of  North 
America."  Gales  uncover  the  skeletons  of  cast- 
aways, but  the  winds  and  waves  have  buried  only 
the  more  deeply  the  crocks  of  doubloons  and  pieces 
of  eight  that  perhaps  the  high-seas-men  did  not  put 
here.  Sarcastic,  indeed,  is  the  name  of  "  French 
Gardens,"  as  applied  to  this  spot  of  blight,  where 
the  forty  convicts  sent  as  slaves  to  the  new  colony 
were  set  ashore  by  De  la  Roche,  to  await  a  call 
that  never  came,  except  from  death.  Only  a  dozen 
escaped  this  call,  and  five  years  later  they  were 
taken  off,  a  shaggy  lot,  half  turned  to  beasts  in  ap- 
pearance, if  not  in  nature.  It  is  guessed  that  the 
only  available  riches  of  the  island  are  in  its  berries 
and  wild  pigs. 

On  Fisguard  Street,  Victoria,  British  Columbia, 
stands  a  dilapidated  house  of  two  stories  and  a 
ghost  story.  Who  or  what  the  ghost  is  the  people 
are  forgetting  ;  but  they  recall  the  Australian  who 
bought  it  twenty-five  years  ago  when  he  arrived 
from   the    gold-fields  of  the    antipodes,  and   it  is 

70 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

alleged  that  some  of  them  prowl  about  the  yard 
when  the  weather  keeps  the  police  in-doors ;  for, 
in  spite  of  its  ghost,  its  spiders,  and  its  rats,  the 
place  has  a  rare  interest  for  them.  There  is  Aus- 
tralian gold  in  the  yard, — a  pot  of  it.  The  Aus- 
tralian had  an  ignorant  horror  of  banks,  bonds, 
stock,  mortgages,  and  the  usual  interest-paying  in- 
vestments, so  he  committed  his  wealth  to  the  earth, 
taking  it  up  and  increasing  it  from  time  to  time. 
When  he  died  he  enjoined  his  wife  never  to  reveal 
its  hiding-place.  She  refused  to  sell  or  lease  the 
property.  Hence  the  visits  of  folks  with  shovels 
and  divining-rods. 

When  gold-hunters  went  to  the  rich  fields  of  the 
Klondike  they  heard  reports  from  the  Indians  of  a 
"  Too-Much-Gold  Creek,"  whose  sands  were  yel- 
lower than  those  of  Pactolus ;  but  the  natives  them- 
selves had  forgotten,  and  the  others,  though  they 
moved  the  name  to  another  stream,  never  found 
just  where  the  water  flowed.  It  has  taken  its  place 
on  the  maps  of  other  days, — the  maps  on  which 
one  finds  the  islands  most  affected  by  mermaids 
and  the  seas  vexed  by  serpents  and  krakens. 


7i 


Myths  and  Legends 

HOW   ONE   BEAR   LOST   HIS   LIFE 

IN  the  folk-lore  of  certain  tribes  Brother  Bear 
is  a  gentle  and  sagacious  creature,  who  fre- 
quents the  settlements  with  the  same  freedom  as  if 
he  were  a  dog.  He  slides  on  the  ice  with  the  chil- 
dren, carries  them  on  his  back,  and  is  glad  of  scraps 
after  dinner,  though  he  prefers  fruit,  vegetables, 
and  honey  to  meat,  when  he  can  get  these  dain- 
ties. The  Indians  encouraged  his  friendship  be- 
cause he  kept  their  camp  free  from  refuse,  and  also 
drove  off  the  wolves  that  so  greatly  vexed  the 
maritime  provinces.  Indeed,  there  is  a  claim  that 
bears  have  never  been  killed  for  food  in  the  East, 
even  when  food  of  all  kinds  was  made  scarce  by 
raiding  armies  of  French  and  English.  This  may 
have  been  true  among  the  Passamaquoddies,  whose 
totem  was  the  bear,  and  who  refuse  to  sit  at  a  table 
where  bear's  meat  is  served,  although  even  they 
may  be  egged  on  to  self-defence,  as  Nick  Lewi 
was  when  he  was  overhauled  by  a  bear  who  had 
stepped  into  four  separate  wild-cat  traps  and  had 
one  on  each  paw,  which  enabled  him  to  box  tre- 
mendously, and  who  succumbed  only  after  repeated 
stabbings. 

It  does  not  often  happen  to  a  hunter  to  get  off 
so  easily  in  an  encounter  with  a  wild  animal  as  a 
Melicite  Indian  did  in  the  New  Brunswick  woods 
when  he  met  a  bear.  He  was  a  calm  person,  as  one 
must  be  who  lives  by  the  hunt,  and  these  Indians 

72 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

have  a  splendid  nerve.  The  white  man  thinks  he 
does  pretty  well  when  he  brings  down  his  prey  at 
a  hundred  yards,  and  he  wants  a  magazine  rifle  and 
dynamite  bullets  at  that.  Until  recently  the  savage 
did  his  killing  at  such  short  range,  with  knives  and 
spears  and  arrows,  that  if  he  missed  his  aim  he 
might  die  for  it.  But  this  adventure  occurred  in 
later  times,  and  is  best  told  in  the  Indian's  own 
words :  "  One  time  I  go  huntum  moose.  Night 
come  dark,  rain  and  snow  come  fast.  No  axe  for 
makum  wigwam.  Gun  wet,  no  getum  fire.  Me 
very  tired.  Me  crawl  into  large  hollow  tree.  Find 
plenty  room.  Almost  begin  sleep.  Bimeby  me 
feelum  hot  wind  blow  on  my  face.  Me  know  hot 
bear's  breath.  He  crawl  into  log,  too.  I  takum 
gun.  She  no  go.  I  think  me  all  same  gone, — all 
eat  up.  Then  me  thinkum  my  old  snuff-box.  I 
take  some  snuff  and  throwum  in  bear's  face  and  he 
run  out.  Not  very  much  likeum,  I  guess.  Me  lay 
still  all  night.  He  no  come  again.  Every  leetle 
while,  every  time,  bear  he  go  ■  o-o-O-ME  !'  sneezum 
over  and  over,  great  many  times.  Morning  come, 
me  fixum  gun  and  shootum,  dead.  He  no  more 
sneezum,  no  more  this  time." 


73 


Myths  and  Legends 

THE  ISLE  OF  DEMONS 

STRENGTH  and  courage  were  often  exhibited 
by  the  women  who  were  among  the  early  im- 
migrants to  this  country, — delicate  creatures  reared 
at  the  court  of  France,  some  of  them,  and  knowing 
little  but  luxury  and  ease  until  they  came  to  these 
shores.  A  typical  "  new  woman"  of  that  kind  was 
Marguerite  de  Roberval,  niece  of  the  harsh  old 
Sieur  de  Roberval,  "  the  little  king  of  Vimeu,"  who 
came  here  to  possess  the  land  and  flog  the  natives 
of  it  into  the  religion  of  love  and  charity.  The 
girl  had  plighted  her  troth  to  a  young  cavalier  who 
had  enlisted  among  the  adventurers  on  this  expedi- 
tion. It  was  of  course  impossible  that  their  love- 
making  should  escape  notice,  and  old  Roberval  was 
so  incensed  about  it  that  when  his  ship  arrived  at 
the  Isle  of  Demons  (Quirpon,  near  Newfoundland) 
he  set  Marguerite  ashore  there  with  her  nurse,  and 
only  four  guns  with  their  ammunition  to  support 
life,  while  he  held  on  his  way  ;  but  the  lover  sprang 
from  the  deck  with  gun  in  hand  and  armor  on  his 
back  and  swam  to  shore,  where  the  three  exiles 
ruefully  or  vengefully  watched  the  departing  ship. 
By  their  united  efforts  a  hut  was  built,  and  here  a 
babe  was  born  to  Marguerite.  For  a  little  time 
their  state  was  not  so  ill.  Then  came  the  cold,  the 
game  grew  scarce,  privation  and  anxiety  told  upon 
them.  The  cavalier  was  first  to  go ;  next  the  in- 
fant ;  lastly,  the  nurse.     Marguerite  buried  them. 

74 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

She  was  alone.  Some  women  would  have  resigned 
themselves  to  despair,  and  truly  this  woman  had  little 
to  live  for.  Not  only  was  she  without  human  com- 
pany, but  imps  and  spirits  walked  over  the  island, 
peered  out  of  the  mist,  whispered  in  the  night, 
called  and  whistled  in  the  gale.  These  evil  ones 
had  horned  heads  and  wings  and  "  howled  like  a 
crowd  in  the  market-place."  At  last  a  sail  appeared. 
She  heaped  her  little  fire  with  brush  and  made  a 
smoke,  which  struck  terror  to  the  crew,  for  this 
was  the  Isle  of  Demons,  and  the  smoke  was  of  the 
eternal  burning.  And  so  they  sailed  away.  Hoping, 
despite  her  grief  and  misery,  Marguerite  fished 
and  hunted,  skinning  the  animals  that  she  shot,  for 
clothes,  and  keeping  her  hut  stanch  against  the 
gales,  praying  when  the  fiends  shook  the  door  and 
muttered  strange  words  at  the  window.  In  the 
third  winter  another  sail  appeared,  and  again  she 
heaped  up  brush  and  sent  a  column  of  smoke  aloft. 
This  time  the  crew  were  scared,  especially  when 
they  saw  the  woman's  figure  gesticulating  franti- 
cally on  a  rock,  but  the  officers  forced  them  to 
anchor  and  make  a  landing.  They  were  honest 
fishermen,  and  never  imagined  at  the  first  that  this 
brown  and  lonely  creature  had  been  an  ornament 
of  the  gayest  society  in  Europe,  but  they  took  her 
back  to  France  with  them,  strong,  sedate,  resource- 
ful now,  and  she  regained  her  kin.  If  she  felt 
any  bitterness  toward  her  uncle  she  was  able  to 
take  a  satisfaction  in  hearing  shortly  of  his  failure.. 

75 


Myths  and  Legends 

He  went  swelling  to  the  New  World  as  "  Lord 
of  Norembega,  Viceroy  and  Lieutenant-General 
in  Canada,  Hochelaga,  Saguenay,  Newfoundland, 
Belle  Isle,  Carpunt,  Labrador,  the  Great  Bay,  and 
Baccalaos,"  with  five  shiploads  of  convicts  in  his 
train,  this  precious  company  having  been  assembled 
to  develop  the  country  and  convert  the  red  men. 
Roberval  was  a  hard  master ;  perhaps  he  needed  to 
be,  and  he  so  ill-treated  his  rag-tag  following,  giving 
them  scanty  food  and  plenty  of  hard  work  at  forts, 
mills,  and  shops,  shooting,  hanging,  and  beating 
women  as  well  as  men  for  the  least  offences,  that  they 
mutinied,  and  his  life  often  hung  in  the  balance. 
Presently  the  food  gave  out,  and  the  proud  Sieur  was 
fain  to  eat  fish  and  roots  boiled  in  oil, — he  who  had 
dined  with  kings.  Scurvy  set  in,  and  the  wretches 
died  pitifully,  yet  unpitied.  Roberval  was  recalled, 
and  according  to  one  report  he  was  struck  down  at 
night  by  an  unknown  hand  before  the  Church  of  the 
Innocents,  in  Paris ;  but  others  believe  that  he  re- 
covered and  made  a  second  venture  for  wealth  and 
power,  his  cruel,  haughty  spirit  again  defeating  its 
own  aim,  so  that  he  died,  leaving  none  to  mourn  him. 
As  he  went  to  his  death  among  the  black  and  lonely 
reaches  of  the  Saguenay,  did  he  shrink  aghast  at  the 
memory  of  his  misdeeds  ?  Mingled  with  the  sounds 
of  wreck  and  storm  that  faded  on  his  ear,  did  he 
hear  the  moans  and  calls  of  the  strange  creatures  on 
the  Isle  of  Demons  to  whose  keeping  he  had  com- 
mitted the  girl  he  should  have  loved  and  sheltered  ? 

76 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

THE   FIGURE   IN   SMOKY   HUT 

SABLE  ISLAND,  haunt  of  convicts,  pirates, 
and  such  wild  creatures,  who  were  landed 
there  centuries  ago,  is  a  mere  bank  in  the  solitary 
northern  seas  that  froth  against  it,  tearing  and 
rebuilding  its  shore,  and  in  high  tide  threatening  to 
engulf  it.  There  are  now  no  inhabitants  except 
the  light-keepers,  for  so  many  crimes  were  com- 
mitted there  in  the  old  days,  especially  by  wreckers, 
that  permanent  settlement  was  prohibited.  It  is  still 
a  graveyard  of  ships,  over  one  hundred  and  fifty 
having  met  their  end  there,  but  castaways  run  no 
risk  of  murder.  Strange  tales  are  told  there  of  a 
heroic  friar,  of  one  of  the  fugitive  judges  who  con- 
demned Charles  I.  to  his  death,  of  men  left  alone 
to  perish  who  became  like  wolves,  and  if  a  sailor 
had  to  choose  a  spot  to  be  wrecked  upon,  this  key 
of  sand  is  one  of  the  last  to  which  he  would  con- 
sent. 

In  the  eighteenth  century  the  British  transport 
ship  Amelia,  with  treasure  and  a  guard,  went  to 
pieces  on  the  sands  of  this  dread  spot,  and  few  sur- 
vived the  disaster.  Those  who  did  succeed  in 
getting  to  the  mainland  told  of  villains  who  had 
shown  false  beacons  and  robbed  and  killed  the 
crew,  and  their  strange  tale  was  promptly  investi- 
gated by  government.  Captain  Torrens,  of  the 
navy,  was  despatched  to  the  scene  of  the  wreck  to 
gain  all  possible  knowledge  of  it,  and,  if  might  be, 

77 


Myths  and  Legends 

to  apprehend  all  who  were  engaged  in  the  crime. 
He  found  the  island  without  trouble.  The  trouble 
began  as  soon  as  he  had  found  it,  for  his  ship  ran 
her  nose  into  it,  and  bade  fair  to  stay,  although 
she  was  eventually  freed  from  the  sand  and  kept 
off  at  anchor.  No  inhabitants  were  found,  except 
wild  hogs,  which  the  sailors  were  glad  to  shoot 
for  food.  Going  over  this  almost  desert  in  search 
of  relics  that  might  furnish  some  clue  to  the  out- 
laws, Captain  Torrens  arrived  at  the  squalid  shel- 
ter known,  probably  because  of  its  ineffective  ven- 
tilation, as  the  "  smoky  hut,"  and  pushed  open  the 
door.  To  his  astonishment,  the  place  was  occu- 
pied. In  the  dim  light  he  saw  a  woman,  young, 
fair,  with  pain  and  sadness  in  her  face.  She  seemed 
to  have  but  just  been  rescued  from  the  sea,  for  her 
long  hair  and  her  simple  white  dress  clung  to  her 
figure,  and  were  as  if  dripping  with  moisture. 

"  Beg  pardon,  madame,"  said  the  captain,  peer- 
ing under  his  hand  to  see  into  the  dark,  for  the 
sun  had  set  in  a  threatening  sky,  "  but  are  there 
any  others  here  ?" 

The  woman  remained  motionless,  with  eyes 
fixed  on  his  own,  and  said  no  word. 

"  Is  it  possible  that  a  ship  has  come  ashore  and 
I  did  not  see  it?  Pray,  how  long  have  you  been 
here  ?     Can  I  do  anything  for  you  ?" 

The  woman  raised  her  hand.  The  first  finger 
was  gone,  and  its  stump  was  mashed  and  bloody. 

"  Ah,  you  have  been  hurt.  Wait  till  I  bring 
78 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

my  surgeon."  And  he  turned  to  go  back  to  his 
ship.  Hardly  had  he  taken  five  paces  before  the 
woman  had  slipped  out  at  the  door — a  thistle-down 
floating  in  the  air  could  not  have  been  lighter — 
and  ran  away.  Happening  to  look  back  at  the 
moment,  the  captain  saw  her.  "  Now  I  under- 
stand," he  said  to  himself.  "  The  poor  creature 
has  been  crazed  by  her  suffering  and  by  her  life 
alone  in  this  place,"  and  calling  after,  he  begged 
her  to  stop.  She  did  not  slack  her  pace,  which  was 
marvellously  swift  and  easy,  and,  fearing  that  she 
might  do  some  violence  to  herself,  he  gave  chase, 
telling  her  that  she  had  no  reason  for  alarm,  and 
asking  her  to  accept  the  shelter  of  his  cabin.  The 
woman  ran  until  she  reached  a  pond  in  the  cen- 
tre of  the  island,  where  she  seemed  to  dive,  for, 
although  he  searched  carefully  through  the  reeds 
and  long  grass,  Captain  Torrens  discovered  no 
trace  of  her,  not  even  a  bent  blade  to  show  that 
she  had  passed.  Going  back  in  perplexity,  he 
was  the  more  bewildered  on  seeing  at  the  door  of 
the  "smoky  hut"  the  same  woman  that  had  disap- 
peared at  the  edge  of  the  pond.  There  was  some- 
thing uncanny  in  it.  He  began  to  wish  that  he 
were  not  alone.  Yet  he  strode  resolutely  to  the 
shanty.  A  wan  gleam  of  twilight  rested  on  the 
still  face  of  the  woman,  who  looked  fixedly  upon 
him.  He  staggered  back  and  became  almost  as 
pale  as  she.  "  Lady  Copeland !  It  is  you !"  he 
exclaimed,  in  a  strained  whisper. 

79 


Myths  and  Legends 

The  woman  nodded. 

"  I  thought  you  were  dead." 

Again  the  woman  nodded. 

"  You  were  killed  here — by  the  wreckers  ?"  he 
gasped. 

She  nodded  again. 

"  I  understand.  They  threw  your  body  into  the 
pond  ?  Horrible  !  And  your  ringer  ?  Yes,  yes.  I 
see.  They  cut  it  off  to  get  your  rings.  Rest  assured 
I  will  do  all  I  can  for  your  repose.  Shall  I  search 
for  your  body  and  take  it  to  England?  No?  Then 
my  chaplain  shall  read  the  service  at  the  pond. 
And  I  will  hunt  down  the  villain  who  robbed  you, 
and  send  your  jewels  to  your  family." 

Again  the  figure  nodded,  and  the  captain  could 
see  that  a  peaceful  smile  had  come  upon  the  face. 
The  wind  drove  up  a  little  cloud  of  sand.  He 
closed  his  eyes  for  an  instant  to  shield  them,  and 
when  he  opened  them  he  was  alone.  Hastening 
back  on  shipboard,  he  fetched  out  the  chaplain, 
had  prayers  said,  weighed  anchor,  and,  acting  on 
such  clues  as  he  had  gathered,  he  set  sail  for  Hali- 
fax, where  he  recovered  from  a  money-lender  the 
gems  that  had  been  stolen  from  Lady  Copeland, 
despatched  them  to  her  family,  then  proceeding 
along  the  Labrador  coast  he  caught  the  wrecker 
who  had  slain  her  and  hanged  him  at  the  yard-arm. 


80 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

THE  SHADOW  OF  HOLLAND  COVE 

IN  1764  came  the  first  white  settler  to  Holland 
Cove,  Prince  Edward  Island, — a  surveyor,  one 
Captain  Holland,  who  gave  his  name  to  the  place 
where  he  had  set  up  his  habitation.  With  him 
presently  appeared  a  woman,  of  Micmac  origin  on 
her  mother's  side,  but  her  father  was  a  French 
count,  belike,  for  she  was  tall,  distinguished,  and 
in  mind  and  bearing  unlike  the  majority  of  half- 
breeds.  Racine  was  the  name  whereby  she  was 
best  known.  Of  her  history  the  captain's  asso- 
ciates knew  nothing,  or  wisely  professed  to  know 
nothing.  During  the  winter  after  his  arrival  the 
captain  was  frequently  absent  on  hunting  and  sur- 
veying trips,  and  on  one  of  these  excursions  he  was 
gone  so  long  beyond  the  appointed  time  that  Ra- 
cine undertook  to  cross  the  cove  on  the  ice,  to  see 
if  she  might  not  find  some  token  of  him  or  meet 
him  the  sooner.  Such,  at  least,  was  the  suppo- 
sition. It  was  an  unwise  venture,  for  the  ice  was 
infirm,  and,  falling  between  two  floes,  she  disap- 
peared. Holland  mourned  her  loss  on  his  return, 
and  attempts  were  made  to  find  her  body,  but  with- 
out avail. 

On  a  still  night  in  the  following  summer  the 
coxswain  of  the  captain's  party  was  wakened  by  a 
sound  of  low  voices  in  the  sitting-room,  and,  know- 
ing that  all  hands  had  turned  in,  his  curiosity  was 
roused.     Lighting  a  tallow  dip,  he  peered  into  the 

6  8l 


<py*\ 


Myths  and  Legends 

room,  and  to  his  surprise  saw  Racine.  Her  posi- 
tion made  it  seem  as  if  she  were  seated  on  the 
knees  of  a  figure  in  the  captain's  easy-chair.  The 
voices  were  subdued  until  they  were  almost  whis- 
pers, so  that  the  steady  drip  of  water  from  the 
woman's  clothing  could  be  heard  distinctly.  At 
the  approach  of  the  coxswain  Racine  arose  and 
fled  past  him  into  the  garden,  going  as  silently  as 
possible,  yet  leaving  an  odor  of  sea-damp  and  a 
trail  of  moisture  along  the  floor.  There  was  quite 
a  pool  of  brine  before  the  chair.  To  the  specta- 
tor's surprise,  the  chair  was  empty.  Had  it  been 
vacated  while  his  eyes  were  on  the  retreating 
woman  ?  He  stood  puzzled,  uncertain,  and  seemed 
to  hear  the  words,  "  Why  doesn't  he  come  ?  I  must 
meet  him,"  receding  from  the  open  door.  Then 
he  heard  a  splash  at  the  shore.  This  roused  him, 
and  he  called  up  the  house,  Captain  Holland  arising 
with  the  others.  In  ten  words  he  told  what  he 
had  seen,  and  all  hurried  to  the  water,  but  again 
nothing  was  seen  or  heard.  There  were  the  pud- 
dled wet,  the  track  of  a  soaked  dress,  the  open 
door.  Who  had  been  there  ?  With  whom  met  ? 
Still,  they  think  nowadays  it  was  a  ghost,  and  that 
all  who  see  it  will  die  of  drowning.  If  you  dis- 
believe in  spirits  and  have  a  faith  that  you  will  die 
in  your  bed,  you  may  care  to  watch  at  Holland  Cove 
on  the  night  of  the  14th  of  July,  at  the  hour  when 
the  tide  is  high. 


Si 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

THE  FRIAR   OF  CAMPOBELLO 

CAMPOBELLO  ISLAND  sounds  well,  but  is 
prettily  absurd,  and  the  change  from  the 
original  and  distinctive  title  of  the  Passamaquod- 
dies,  which  was  Ebawhoot,  is  pleasant  only  to 
people  who  like  weak  names.  It  has  more  history 
than  an  island  measuring  only  three  miles  by  eight 
can  usually  boast,  for  many  are  the  tales  of  pirates, 
of  wrecks  and  wreckers,  of  haunters  and  of  war ; 
as  in  1866  the  romantic  region  was  menaced  by 
all  the  terrors  of  bombardment.  A  band  of  Fenians 
assembled  at  Eastport  in  that  year,  determined  to 
take  the  island  away  from  Canada,  crush  its  popu- 
lation of  eighteen  or  twenty,  and  annex  it  to  Ire- 
land ;  but  they  got  into  a  discussion  and  finally 
didn't.  Here  Admiral  Owen,  proprietor  of  the 
island,  used  to  pace  up  and  down  in  his  gold 
lace  and  buttons  on  a  quarter-deck  that  he  built 
over  the  ledges.  Here  is  the  rock  of  the  Friar, 
scarred  by  the  shot  of  British  war-ships  at  prac- 
tice ;  for  sea-captains  were  not  brought  up  on  In- 
dian legends.  This  friar  was  never  a  monk.  He 
is  a  petrified  lover.  Foolishly  he  fell  victim  to  the 
charms  of  a  squaw,  and  when  the  husband  of  his 
copper-colored  enchantress  discovered  the  fact  he 
drove  him  into  outer  darkness.  So  stony  was  his 
despair  that  it  completely  changed  him,  and  there 
he  is  at  this  day  :  skedapsispenabsku,  the  stone 
manikin. 

83 


Myths  and  Legends 

Another  accounting  for  the  figure  is  this.  A 
young  Indian  of  courage,  and  his  wife  of  grace 
and  beauty,  lived  on  the  cape  above  the  Friar,  and 
would  have  lived  happily  had  it  not  been  for  the 
parents  of  his  wife,  who  not  only  insisted  on  living 
with  her  and  being  cared  for,  but  on  commanding 
her  as  if  she  were  still  unmarried.  A  trip  to  St. 
John  River  having  been  proposed  by  the  parents, 
the  young  man  refused  to  go  with  them  or  to  allow 
his  wife  to  go.  She  was  divided  between  two 
duties,  as  she  fancied,  and  was  in  much  grief. 
Neither  her  father  nor  her  husband  would  concede 
any  point,  and  the  time  set  for  the  journey  was 
near.  Now,  the  young  man  had  medicine  power, 
and  he  did  what  he  could  to  increase  it,  until,  feel- 
ing that  he  could  work  his  will,  he  asked  his  wife 
to  walk  with  him  to  the  shore.  While  she  sat 
there  he  threw  his  command  upon  her,  and  she 
sank  to  sleep;  then  she  grew  rigid,  death-like,  and 
soon  she  was  stone.  "  I  told  you  I  would  never 
part  from  my  wife,"  he  said  to  his  father-in-law. 
"  Come  with  me  and  see  how  I  keep  my  word. 
There  is  your  daughter.  She  will  never  move 
or  speak  again.  I  look  on  her  and  bid  you  fare- 
well." And,  putting  all  his  magic  power  into  the 
effort,  he  began  to  lose  his  human  outline,  to  harden 
and  turn  gray.  And  in  a  few  minutes  he,  too,  was 
stone. 

This  myth  of  conversion  is  wide-spread,  and  on 
the  other  side  of  the  continent  we  find  an  opposite 

84 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

phase  of  it.  The  Chinooks  point  to  Mount  Ika- 
nam  as  the  body  of  Ikanam,  creator  of  the  universe, 
self-petrified  ;  while  on  the  Yukon,  above  Klato- 
klin,  or  Johnny's  village,  are  two  mighty  rocks 
heaved  sheer  for  hundreds  of  feet  above  the  water. 
These  are  husband  and  wife.  Being  incompatible 
in  temper,  the  man  kicked  the  woman  into  the 
plain  and  drew  the  river  out  of  its  old  bed  to  run 
between  them. 

With  that  infernal  spirit  of  destruction  that  dif- 
ferentiates men  from  other  animals,  a  crowd  of 
fishermen  succeeded  in  tumbling  the  Campobello 
husband  into  the  bay,  while  the  British  captains 
pounded  off"  the  head  of  the  wife  with  cannon. 
Along  come  other  destroyers  who  tear  up  the  old 
names  and  old  traditions,  set  up  Jonesvilles  and 
Jimsonhursts,  and  hold  five  o'clock  teas  amid  the 
ruins  of  Indian  romance. 

TWO   MELICITE   VICTORIES 

SUNDRY  miles  of  the  country  watered  by  the 
St.  John — the  river  of  that  name  in  New 
Brunswick,  for  it  is  applied  to  other  waters ;  in- 
deed, there  are  not  saints  enough  to  go  around — are 
and  long  have  been  the  haunts  of  the  Melicites,  and 
although  they  now  wear  trousers,  read  the  papers, 
and  make  a  dollar  or  so  a  day  as  canoemen,  they 
boast  of  many  achievements  in  war.  Especially 
venomous   were   the   Mohawks,  and  two  of  their 

85 


Myths  and  Legends 

victories  against  those  people  were  unusual.  Near 
Muniac  a  peninsula  juts  into  the  St.  John.  It  is  a 
long  way  around,  and  a  short  cut  is  offered  across 
the  isthmus.  The  Melicites  knew  this  and  the 
Mohawks  did  not,  and  through  the  device  known 
to  theatrical  managers  who  give  a  "  cheap  numer- 
osity  to  a  stage  army,"  the  invaders  were  turned 
back  and  no  lives  were  lost.  Finding  their  enemy 
encamped  in  force  on  the  shore  opposite  this  point, 
evidently  intending  an  attack  on  some  villages  be- 
low that  were  peopled  only  by  women,  children, 
and  old  men,  the  braves  being  absent  on  a  search 
for  deer  and  Mohawks,  a  little  company  of  six 
Melicites  proceeded  to  multiply  itself.  The  men 
had  three  canoes,  and  in  them  they  paddled  down- 
stream as  fast  as  possible  and  as  far  as  possible 
from  the  hostile  camp.  But  they  did  not  go  home. 
They  turned  around  the  point,  out  of  sight  behind 
the  trees,  then  scrambled  across  the  isthmus,  em- 
barked, and  came  down  once  more,  the  boats  being 
well  strung  out.  As  boat  after  boat  went  by  for 
half  a  day,  the  Mohawks,  who  had  had  no  idea  that 
there  were  so  many  hundred  Melicites,  became 
thoughtful,  then  sad.  They  felt  that  they  had  been 
lured  away  on  a  dangerous  errand,  and,  so  deciding, 
they  packed  up  their  belongings  and  returned  to 
their  own  habitations. 

The  victory  at  the  Grand  Falls  of  the  St.  John 
was  won  by  equally  clever  strategy,  but  it  had  its 
tragedy.     Indeed,  there  have  been  many  tragedies 

86 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

in  this  gloomy  chasm,  with  its  seventy-foot  plunge 
of  waters,  from  the  times  when  the  Melicites  used 
to  fling  their  prisoners  over  Squaw  Rock  into  a 
black  depth  two  hundred  feet  below,  to  these  later 
days  when  lumbermen  have  been  drawn  into  the  tor- 
rent and  their  bodies  never  given  back  to  the  sight 
of  men.  Two  or  three  centuries  ago,  at  least,  the 
Mohawks  descended  the  river  to  do  injury  to  the 
people  who  dwelt  beside  it.  At  the  mouth  of  the 
Madawaska  they  paused  for  a  few  minutes  to  wipe 
a  village  out  of  existence.  A  few  of  the  people 
escaped,  but  all  on  whom  hands  could  be  laid  were 
killed,  excepting  only  a  squaw.  Her  life  was  spared 
on  condition  that  she  would  act  as  their  pilot  down 
the  stream,  for  they  knew  that  there  were  dan- 
gers to  navigation  between  them  and  the  populous 
Melicite  town  of  Aukpak.  The  woman  gained 
their  confidence  by  leading  them  safely  over  some 
rapids,  and,  as  the  current  was  strong  and  they  were 
constitutionally  opposed  to  work,  they  roped  their 
canoes  together  and  allowed  the  river  to  carry 
them.  Their  guide  occupied  a  place  in  the  first 
boat,  and  was  warned  that  she  would  die  if  she  mis- 
led them.  Suddenly  the  shores  came  together  in  a 
savage  gap,  and  the  current  grew  more  swift.  The 
squaw  looked  straight  ahead  with  impassive  face. 
And  now  a  deep  roar  was  heard.  She  told  them 
it  was  a  stream  falling  into  the  St.  John.  Then, 
as  the  fleet  swung  about  a  point,  the  misty  gulf  dis- 
closed   itself,  while    a  thunder  of   water  stunned 

87 


Myths  and  Legends 

them.  They  realized  their  danger,  and  rowed  with 
frenzy  for  the  shore.  But  it  was  of  no  use.  They 
were  in  the  river's  grasp.  The  squaw  gave  a  loud 
cry  of  triumph,  there  was  a  faint  crash  of  splinter- 
ing canoes  on  the  tooth  of  rock  below,  then  victory 
and  silence. 


THE   FLAME  SLOOP  OF   CARAQUETTE 

T  JEAVEN  save  us  all  and  shield  us  from 
JlX.  harm,"  is  the  prayer  pf  the  people  who 
live  along  the  Bay  of  Chaleurs,  and  especially  of 
those  Brunswickers  who  fish  upon  it,  when  they 
hear  that  the  flame  sloop  is  on  her  cruise  again. 
Never  is  that  apparition  reported  but  some  dweller 
on  the  bay  giyes  up  his  life  within  a  week.  The 
sloop  is  seldom  seen  except  by  sailors  and  fisher- 
men, but  the  gleam  of  it  penetrates  far  through 
even  stormy  air,  falling  over  the  landscape  in  a 
pale,  phosphorescent  glow,  as  if  the  northern  lights 
were  out,  and  fading  while  one  looks  about  him  to 
see  where  it  comes  from.  Those  who  see  it  fairly 
and  live  to  tell  about  it  say  it  is  a  sloop-rigged 
craft,  all  made  of  fire, — a  vision  out  of  hot  hell  on 
the  cold  waters  of  the  Laurentian  gulf.  Its  sails 
are  sheets  of  flame,  its  shrouds  are  like  light- 
ning, its  hull,  mast,  and  spars  glow  like  brands. 
On  the  deck  are  the  crew,  charred  corpses,  stirfly 
walking  the  red  planks,  hauling  at  the  blazing  hal- 
liards, and  climbing  the  white-hot  shrouds.     Vari- 

88 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

ous  are  the  explanations  of  this  phenomenon. 
Henry  Hudson  perished  lonesomely  in  the  vast  bay 
that  keeps  his  name,  the  victim  of  a  mutiny,  and 
this  may  be  a  vision  of  the  fate  that  befell  his  crew 
in  working  southward,  even  though  the  ship  itself 
reached  England.  Roberval  ascended  the  Sague- 
nay,  and  in  one  version  of  his  history  he  never 
came  down.  Is  this  a  revelation  of  what  ensued 
among  his  discontented  men  ?  According  to  one 
dim  rumor,  Verrazzano,  the  Florentine  discoverer, 
was  killed  by  Indians  near  Louisburg,  Cape  Bre- 
ton, and  his  crew,  attempting  an  escape,  may  have 
drifted  down  the  coast  to  meet  this  strange  destruc- 
tion. The  omnipresent  Kidd  has  infested  this  bay 
at  times. 

But  a  tale  has  gone  the  rounds  of  the  Chaleurs 
villages,  that  shortly  after  the  nineteenth  century  was 
born  a  small  vessel  went  ashore  on  the  south  side  of 
the  bay,  near  Caraquette,  New  Brunswick.  It  was 
believed  that  crew  and  freight  went  to  the  bottom 
with  her,  until  certain  articles  known  to  have  been 
on  board  were  found  to  be  in  the  hands  of  a  few 
fellows  ashore,  who  were  looked  upon  askance  by 
their  neighbors  as  men  who  smuggled,  diced,  drank 
too  much,  had  even  sailed  in  a  pirate  ship  and  set 
false  beacons  inland  to  lure  well-freighted  barks 
ashore.  So  it  was  whispered  about  that  these  fel- 
lows had  more  knowledge  of  the  sloop's  wreck 
than  they  were  willing  to  impart.  There  was  no 
direct  evidence,  but  the  circumstantial  proof  offered 

89 


Myths  and  Legends 

by  their  mysteriously  earned  property  was  sound 
enough  to  take  a  warrant  on.  Some  leaky-mouthed 
villager  told  them  that  the  officers  were  coming, 
and,  hurriedly  gathering  their  effects  into  a  small 
vessel  of  their  own,  they  stood  away  to  sea.  Had 
they  intended  any  usual  business  they  would  have 
waited  until  a  stout  nor'wester  had  blown  itself 
out,  but  their  lives  were  in  hazard,  and  their  first 
hope  was  to  get  out  of  the  Bay  of  Chaleurs.  On 
the  very  next  morning  parts  of  their  vessel  began 
to  come  ashore  in  the  breakers,  and  before  the  sun 
was  down  the  body  of  every  one  of  those  guilty 
men  had  been  flung  upon  the  rocks.  This  the 
people  believed  to  be  a  certain  indication  of  their 
crime.  What  brought  them  to  their  end?  Some 
act  of  carelessness  ?  The  upsetting  of  a  stove  or 
lamp  ?  Or  was  it  a  stroke  of  lightning  ?  What- 
ever it  was,  it  worked  an  act  of  vengeance,  and  the 
souls  of  the  wretched  creatures  are  doomed  to 
haunt  the  scene  of  their  offence,  swathed  in  such 
flames  as  the  good  priests  say  must  be  their  ever- 
lasting portion. 


90 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

THE  ACADIANS  AND  EVANGELINE 

WE  shall  never  be  quite  at  the  truth  about 
the  Acadians,  the  French  settlers  in  Nova 
Scotia,  for  the  reports  of  the  differences  between 
them  and  the  English  are  colored  by  race  and  re- 
ligious prejudice.  Certain  it  is,  however,  that  on 
taking  possession  of  the  country  the  British  re- 
garded these  farmers  with  suspicion,  and  that  they 
burned  their  homes  and  drove  them  into  exile  with 
such  haste  that  many  families  were  separated,  never 
again  to  be  united.  The  French  set  forth  that 
this  was  the  act  of  a  tyrannical  governor  and  an 
imbruted  soldiery.  The  English  allege  that  the 
Acadians  could  not  be  trusted  ;  that  under  guise  of 
neutrality  they  were  plotting  against  their  con- 
querors and  watching  for  an  occasion  to  restore 
French  rule  in  the  Dominion.  At  the  dawn  of  the 
twentieth  century  the  breach,  though  narrowed, 
is  still  unhealed.  Among  the  charges  brought 
against  the  Acadians  is  that  of  angering  the  savages 
against  their  new  rulers  by  telling  them  that  the 
English  were  the  men  who  had  crucified  Christ. 
Although  the  farmers  along  Minas  Basin  persisted 
that  they  had  no  part  in  the  war  which  culminated 
in  the  fall  of  Louisburg  under  the  guns  of  British 
regulars  and  Yankee  militia,  they  were  ordered, 
under  penalties,  to  aid  the  winning  party.  One 
British  officer  told  them  that  unless  they  furnished 
wood  for  his  camp  he  would  tear  down  their  houses 

9i 


Myths  and  Legends 

for  fuel.  Another  said,  "  If  you  don't  take  the 
oath  of  fidelity  I  will  batter  your  villages  with  my 
cannon."  Cornwallis,  on  the  other  hand,  assured 
them  that  if  only  they  would  be  peaceable  and 
loyal  they  might  retain  their  religion  and  be  "  the 
happiest  people  in  the  world.' ' 

Several  acts  of  these  French  settlers  were  not 
those  of  a  peace-loving  or  a  neutral  people.  They 
made  trouble  at  Chebucto;  they  incited  the  Indians 
to  the  raid  on  Dartmouth,  in  which  many  of  the 
villagers  were  killed,  hurt,  and  kidnapped,  their 
homes  looted,  and  a  third  of  the  settlement  laid  in 
ashes.  At  the  end  of  the  war  the  Acadians  who 
had  escaped  arrest  refused  to  take  the  oath  of  alle- 
giance and  claimed  the  right  to  be  let  alone.  Vicar- 
General  La  Loutre,  their  clerical  leader,  so  hated 
the  Protestants  that,  like  the  Russians  retreating 
before  Napoleon  in  a  later  time,  he  burned  one  of 
his  towns — Beaubassin,  a  place  of  a  thousand  souls 
— that  the  English  might  not  take  it.  It  was  a 
wretched  season,  and  were  it  not  for  certain  pic- 
turesque incidents  attending  the  deportation  and 
dispersion  of  the  Acadians,  of  whom  several  spent 
the  rest  of  their  lives  vainly  seeking  their  families, 
and  of  whom  '*  three  ship-loads  were  sent  to  Phil- 
adelphia," one  could  wish  that  its  record  might  be 
lost. 

Best  known  of  these  episodes  is  that  of  Evange- 
line, the  heroine  of  Longfellow's  poem.  She,  at 
least,  was  an  innocent  sufferer  in  the  clash  between 

92 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

the  races,  and  it  is  her  story  that,  more  than  any- 
other  factor,  has  caused  the  action  of  the  English 
to  be  condemned  with  expressions  of  horror. 
Evangeline  Bellefontaine  and  her  betrothed,  Ga- 
briel Lajeunesse,  were  of  Grand  Pre,  whose  few 
ruins  on  the  south  shore  of  Minas  are  a  common 
show  for  tourists.  When  the  British  seized  their 
village  and  burned  their  homes  they  expected  to 
be  sent  away  together,  but  in  the  haste  and  confu- 
sion they  were  separated,  and,  without  the  slightest 
clue  to  the  whereabouts  of  her  lover,  Evangeline 
set  off  on  a  search  for  him.  She  sought  from 
Maine  to  Louisiana,  daring  roughness,  illness,  and 
fatigue,  and  at  last  reached  a  home  on  the  Teche 
on  the  very  day  that  Gabriel  had  left  it  to  prose- 
cute his  equally  vain  search  for  her.  After  other 
years  of  wandering,  broken  in  spirit,  hopeless,  yet 
willing  to  live  for  the  good  she  might  do,  Evange- 
line became  a  nun,  and  was  assigned  to  a  Philadel- 
phia hospital.  A  pestilence  was  raging.  People 
were  dying  by  hundreds.  On  a  Sunday  morning 
she  found  in  the  hospital  a  new  victim.  It  was 
Gabriel.  A  cry,  a  kiss:  he  was  gone.  Yet  life 
was  less  bitter  to  her  from  that  moment. 


93 


Myths  and  Legends 

THE   TOLLING   OFF   GASPE 

WHEN  it  was  learned  that  the  English  were 
coming,  the  good  folk  of  Grand  Pre  hid 
many  of  their  simple  treasures,  for  to  their  minds, 
inflamed  against  the  invaders,  to  be  an  Englishman 
was  to  be  little  else  than  a  robber.  Strange  sights 
had  been  seen  in  the  air,  strange  sounds  had  been 
heard  in  the  twilight,  and  the  people  feared.  Know- 
ing that  the  English  were  heretics,  their  first  care 
was  to  save  the  church  properties,  the  communion- 
cups  and  host  of  silver,  the  embroidered  vestments 
of  the  priest,  the  sweet-toned  bell  that  called  them 
to  matins,  mass,  and  vespers  and  rang  the  restful 
Angelus  across  their  well-tilled  fields.  These  ob- 
jects were  placed  in  a  vault,  and,  according  to  one 
version  of  the  tale,  were  stolen  on  the  very  next 
night  by  the  crew  of  a  strange  vessel  that  landed 
here.  A  gale  sped  the  departing  craft,  and  as  she 
lifted  across  the  waves  the  boom  of  the  bell  came 
back  across  the  seething  water.  Accursed  in  this 
theft,  the  vessel  got  no  farther  than  Blomidon.  At 
the  foot  of  that  great  crag  she  was  shivered  into 
pieces,  and  there  among  the  sands  the  treasure  is. 

But  the  oftener  told  story  of  the  bell  is  that  it 
was  put  aboard  a  rescue-ship,  the  Tourmente,  that 
it  might  be  carried  with  the  other  church  belong- 
ings to  a  chapel  near  Gaspe.  The  sight  of  the  rich 
silver,  the  gemmed  stole,  the  candlesticks,  incense- 
burner,  and  altar  ornaments,  that  might  easily  be 

94 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

converted  into  money,  roused  the  cupidity  of  the 
captain  and  his  lawless  crew  :  so,  instead  of  deliv- 
ering the  treasure  at  Gaspe,  they  set  the  priest 
ashore  and  sailed  away.  Standing  on  the  beach, 
the  good  father  pronounced  a  curse  on  ship  and 
crew,  and  hardly  had  he  turned  away  ere  the  sky 
darkened,  a  wind  came  up  that  increased  to  a  hur- 
ricane before  the  canvas  could  be  taken  in,  and 
presently  the  vessel  was  hurled  against  a  rock  and 
was  broken  in  two.  Not  a  soul  survived ;  not  even 
the  girl  passenger  who  was  on  her  way  to  join  her 
lover.  And  now  the  tolling  bell  of  a  spectre  ship 
is  sometimes  heard  by  the  people  of  Gaspe.  It  is 
a  vessel  squat  and  square,  sailed  by  a  skeleton  crew 
in  pigtails  and  petticoat  breeches,  and  the  boom 
of  the  stolen  bell,  that  hangs  high  on  her  foremast, 
is  so  dire  in  meaning  that  passing  sailors  tremble. 
The  form  in  white  that  wrings  its  hands  on  the 
deck  is  that  of  the  girl  who  was  to  meet  her  lover 
only  in  death,  for  his  shadow,  too,  is  seen  on  a 
cliff,  feeding  a  phosphor  beacon-fire,  and  as  the  ship 
careens  below  he  leaps  to  her  rescue  and  disappears 
beneath  the  waves  with  her  in  his  arms.  To  see 
this  ship  as  it  cruises  up  and  down  the  gulf,  espe- 
cially when  it  flies  by  in  dead  calm  or  against  the 
wind,  her  binnacle  burning  blue,  her  funereal  bell 
tolling,  is  to  meet  a  storm  within  an  hour.  If  you 
follow  that  lamp  and  bell  through  the  deepening 
murk,  hoping  to  gain  safe  harbor,  you  will  be  hurled 
on  the  same  reef  on  which  the  Tourmente  perished. 

95 


Myths  and  Legends 

THE  RIDE  TO  DEATH 

AMONG  the  Indian  gardens  of  fable  was  the 
lake  country  of  the  Blue  Mountains,  in  Nova 
Scotia.  A  certain  reverence  for  the  spirits  of  its 
woods  and  waters  made  the  Micmacs  who  dwelt 
there  jealous  of  the  advancing  white  men,  yet  they 
had  received  so  many  benefits  at  the  hands  of  the 
French  people  that  they  could  not  refuse  help  to 
the  latter  in  their  extremity.  For  Annapolis  Royal 
had  been  thrown  into  panic  on  the  news  that  the 
English  had  burned  Grand  Pre,  seized  its  farms 
and  live  stock,  and  sent  all  its  people  captive  to 
other  lands.  Already  the  English  officers  had  dis- 
armed the  Acadians,  so  that  they  could  not  even 
shoot  ducks  for  food,  yet  with  deportation  to  fol- 
low capture  the  Annapolitans  determined  to  risk 
the  harshness  of  the  wilds  rather  than  the  cruelty 
of  their  fellow-men.  Collecting  what  they  might 
of  their  goods  and  stock,  they  set  off  for  the  Blue 
Mountains.  Sometimes  they  suffered  a  lack  of 
food,  several  babes  died  of  hunger  and  exposure 
and  were  buried  beside  the  .trail,  cattle  fell  by  the 
way,  and  the  nights  were  filled  with  dread  when 
the  growling  and  squalling  of  beasts  came  from  the 
bush.  Having  no  guns,  they  were  without  de- 
fence, except  that  of  clubs  and  stones,  but  they 
reached  the  Micmac  settlements  just  as  a  troop 
of  English  arrived  within  striking  distance.  The 
Indians  beat  back  the  pursuers  and  cared  for  the 

96 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

Acadians  until  they  could  help  themselves,  sharing 
fish  and  game,  and  building  huts  to  shelter  them. 
And  friendship  was  strengthened  between  the  red 
men  and  the  white. 

Among  the  French  was  a  girl  named  Rachel, 
whose  lover,  Joseph,  had  disappeared  on  the  day 
of  the  flight.  Whether  he  had  fled  with  another 
party  or  been  deported  to  the  southern  colonies 
none  could  tell,  but  there  was  a  fear  that  he  had 
resisted  the  English  and  had  been  killed.  A  young 
Micmac  sued  for  Rachel's  hand,  thinking  that  her 
heart  was  free,  but  she  would  not  listen  to  him. 
Long  he  paid  his  court,  but  with  no  effect  until 
the  young  man's  father  took  on  a  tone  half  threat- 
ening. He  reminded  her  how  the  French  had 
been  befriended  by  the  Micmacs  in  this  flight,  and 
what  ingratitude  she  would  show  if  she  behaved 
with  coldness  toward  his  son.  Her  own  people 
also  pleaded  with  her.  Their  lives  depended  on 
the  friendship  of  these  Indians  ;  it  was  certain  that 
she  never  again  would  hear  of  her  white  lover; 
in  this  marriage  she  would  be  gaining  favors  for 
all  her  people  ;  beside,  the  hunter  was  a  well-ap- 
pearing lad,  who  had  been  Christianized,  and  might 
be  won  to  the  ways  of  the  Acadians,  as  well  as  to 
their  faith.  Worn  with  these  persecutions,  indif- 
ferent in  her  sorrow,  feeling  that  she  had  no  friend, 
Rachel  consented,  and  a  day  was  fixed  for  the 
wedding. 

The  log  chapel  was  decorated  with  flowers,  all 
7  97 


Myths  and  Legends 

the  people,  both  pale  and  dark,  gathered  to  feast 
and  dance,  the  priest  awaited  the  couple  at  the  altar, 
when  a  commotion  arose  without,  for  a  young 
Acadian  was  come,  eagerly  calling  for  Rachel.  It 
was  Joseph.  He  had  been  carried  with  other  ex- 
iles to  Philadelphia,  had  but  just  succeeded  in 
finding  this  remote  colony  of  his  people,  and  was 
filled  with  disgust  and  rage  at  discovering  the  ap- 
parent faithlessness  of  his  fiancee.  In  a  few  words 
the  girl  explained  that  the  marriage  was  not  of  her 
seeking,  and  begged  him  to  take  her  away.  The 
Indian,  who  had  been  haughtily  regarding  his  rival, 
bade  him  begone,  for  he  would  not  suffer  the  dis- 
grace of  giving  up  his  wife  to  any  man.  The 
older  heads  were  shaken  sadly,  because  matters  had 
now  gone  too  far  to  be  undone.  The  wedding 
must  take  place.  The  girl  must  dress  quickly  and 
follow  her  dusky  groom  to  church.  In  a  few  min- 
utes five  little  girls,  wreathed  in  flowers,  went  to 
her  door,  whence  she  was  to  walk  to  her  bridal. 
The  Indian  became  impatient.  He  knocked ;  he 
called.  There  was  no  answer.  He  flung  open  the 
door  ;  the  place  was  empty.  Instantly  the  village 
was  in  an  uproar,  the  Indians  clamoring  for  pur- 
suit and  revenge,  the  Acadians  declaring  their  inno- 
cence, the  old  priest  urging  peace.  A  few  bent 
grass-blades  and  broken  twigs  showed  that  the  flight 
of  the  lovers  had  been  toward  the  outlet  of  the 
lakes,  and  when  the  Indians  reached  the  water 
Joseph  and  Rachel  were  seen  in  a  canoe  paddling 

98 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

down  the  river  with  all  haste.  The  pursuers 
quickly  embarked  and  gave  chase.  Believing  that 
capture  was  certain,  Joseph  picked  up  his  gun  and 
was  about  to  shoot  his  Micmac  rival,  but  Rachel 
begged  him  not  to  fire,  for  the  Indians  might  revenge 
the  act  upon  the  innocent.  He  dropped  the  gun  and 
resumed  his  paddle.  Presently  they  noticed  that  the 
Indians  had  fallen  back,  and  their  hearts  bounded 
with  a  new  hope,  for  liberty  now  seemed  secure  ; 
but  in  another  moment  they  knew  the  reason  for 
this  abandonment :  the  roar  of  a  waterfall  was 
heard,  and  their  canoe  was  whirling  toward  the 
brink  with  growing  speed.  The  paddles  were 
useless.  The  lovers'  lips  met  in  a  kiss ;  then, 
clasped  in  each  other's  arms,  their  voices  joined  in 
prayer,  they  rode  into  the  abyss,  to  death. 

In  another  version  a  happier  ending  is  reached : 
the  runaways  leave  their  canoe  at  the  head  of  the 
rapid  and  hide  among  the  trees.  The  birch  is 
found  empty  and  crushed  among  the  rocks  below. 
Thus  prosperously  starting  a  belief  in  their  death, 
they  travel  safely  afoot  to  Halifax,  where  they  beg 
the  captain  of  a  British  ship  to  give  them  passage 
to  the  southern  colonies,  and  in  the  warm,  fertile 
lands  of  a  more  peaceful  country  they  live  hap- 
pily for  long  years. 


99 


Myths  and  Legends 

THE   GENERAL   WITH   AN   EAR 

STUDENTS  in  the  university  at  Fredericton, 
New  Brunswick,  are  in  no  wise  different 
from  the  pupils  of  other  schools,  although  it  is  not 
recorded  of  them  that  they  ever  put  a  cow  into 
the  chapel  belfry  or  enlivened  a  lecture  on  geology 
with  cannon  crackers.  But  they  did  break  the  law 
with  a  gun  on  several  occasions.  This  gun  belongs 
to  the  university,  and  has  had  a  way  of  going  off  on 
unexpected  nights,  causing  the  alarm  of  housewives 
in  the  town  and  the  utterance  of  distressing  remarks 
by  usually  moral  householders.  The  students  had 
organized  a  glee-club,  which  for  its  own  safety's  sake 
did  most  of  its  singing  in  vacant  farms  and  grave- 
yards, even  defying  the  ghosts  in  silks  and  peri- 
wigs that  vex  the  hermitage,  and  one  night  it 
shifted  the  scene  to  a  place  in  the  woods,  having 
noticed  certain  threatening  exhibitions  on  the  part 
of  citizens  near  the  places  of  its  other  rehearsals. 
As  it  happened,  they  had  posted  themselves  beside 
the  grave  of  a  certain  French  general,  and  they  had 
not  been  at  work  more  than  ten  minutes  before 
this  officer  scrambled  out  of  the  earth  with  hair  on 
end,  tears  in  his  eyes,  and  distraction  in  his  aspect. 
He  adjured  them  by  all  they  held  sacred — if  people 
who  made  such  noises  could  hold  even  the  ten  com- 
mandments sacred — to  go  and  sing  to  the  others. 
If  only  they  would  let  him  alone  he  would  tell 
them  where  a  cannon  had  been  hidden  with  which 

100 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

they  could  create  a  less  terrible  noise,  though  a 
louder  one,  than  they  were  engaged  in  making. 
They  accepted  the  bribe,  imperilled  their  lives  and 
those  of  other  people  by  practising  elsewhere,  and 
found  the  gun,  so  that  Fredericton  had,  for  a  time, 
two  kinds  of  disturbances  instead  of  one. 


THE   DEFENCE   OF   ST.   JOHN 

ALTHOUGH  it  has  always  been  a  mission  of 
womankind  to  astonish  and  perplex  dull 
men, — that  is,  all  men, — one  cannot  read  the  his- 
tory of  the  maritime  provinces  without  a  fresh 
experience  of  wonder  and  admiration,  with  occa- 
sional moments  of  doubt,  it  is  true,  at  the  exploits 
of  the  sweethearts  and  wives  of  immigrants  and 
habitants.  And  beauty  is  added  to  their  courage  by 
the  modesty  of  it  all,  for  not  one  of  them  clamors  for 
her  rights,  or  summons  a  band  of  shrieking  sisters  to 
suppress  the  tyrant,  man  ;  though,  goodness  knows, 
the  tyrant  often  needed  suppressing  the  worst  way. 
And  it  was  France — religious,  conventional  France 
— that  gave  these  daughters  to  the  New  World ; 
France,  that  held  the  sex  in  social  abeyance  and 
reared  its  girls  to  dance  and  sing  and  work  embroid- 
ery, and  charm,  and  pray  in  convents,  but  not  to 
fight.  We  had,  withal,  a  dozen  Jeannes  d'Arc  in  this 
country  in  the  old  days  who  would  have  done  as 
much  for  their  people  as  the  original  Maid  of  Orleans 
did  for  hers  had  they  enjoyed  an  opportunity. 

IOI 


Myths  and  Legends 

Such  was  Madeleine,  daughter  of  Lieutenant 
Vercheres,  who  at  the  age  of  fourteen  withstood 
a  siege,  by  Iroquois,  of  "  Castle  Dangerous,"  on  the 
Richelieu.  With  only  three  despairing  men  and 
two  little  boys  to  aid  her,  she  held  off  the  savages 
for  a  week,  until  help  arrived  from  Quebec. 

Such  was  Demoiselle  Poulin,  who  refused  to  sur- 
render the  forges  on  the  St.  Maurice  at  the  bidding 
of  the  English. 

Such,  in  quieter,  more  womanly  ways,  were 
Helene  de  Champlain,  Marguerite  de  Roberval, 
and  Evangeline  Bellefontaine. 

Such  was  Madame  Drucour,  wife  of  the  gover- 
nor, who  served  the  guns  at  Louisburg,  firing 
three  shots  at  the  English  every  day,  to  inspirit 
the  jaded  soldiers  to  fresh  resistance  in  the  siege ; 
and  her  bravery  won  favors  for  her  countrymen 
from  the  enemy  after  the  surrender. 

But  the  most  conspicuous  act  of  courage  was  the 
defence  of  the  fort  at  the  mouth  of  the  river  St. 
John,  New  Brunswick,  against  the  brutal,  mean- 
spirited  Charnisay.  In  1643  Charles  La  Tour 
was  a  prosperous  trader  who  had  set  up  his  station 
at  this  point,  and  his  neighbor,  D'Aulnay  Charni- 
say, had  a  post  across  the  bay  at  Port  Royal.  The 
two  ruled  Acadia  jointly,  though  each  had  his  half, 
so  that  there  was  no  excuse  for  friction  ;  but  La 
Tour's  material  success  aroused  the  jealousy  of  the 
other,  and  he  worked  for  his  removal.  As  a  result  of 
his  reports,  the  king  was  persuaded  to  lend  himself 

102 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

to  the  schemes  of  the  mischief-maker,  and  author- 
ized him  to  arrest  La  Tour  for  treason.  Conscious 
of  his  right,  La  Tour  declined  to  be  arrested  ;  on 
the  contrary,  he  strengthened  his  walls  and  secured 
enforcements  from  the  Protestant  town  of  Rochelle. 
Charnisay  persuaded  the  king  to  crush  the  rebel, 
and  when  the  royal  troops  arrived  he  blockaded 
the  port  against  his  brother  governor.  In  a  fog 
La  Tour  and  his  wife  escaped  to  Boston,  whence 
he  came  back  with  five  ships  filled  with  sympathetic 
fighters,  and  soundly  thrashed  Charnisay,  but  care- 
lessly omitted  to  hang  him. 

Smarting  under  his  reverse,  the  beaten  man 
waited  until  a  partial  peace  had  been  arranged  and 
La  Tour  had  withdrawn  on  a  hunting  and  trading 
trip,  before  investing  the  fort,  with  an  idea  of 
starving  it  into  surrender.  Two  monks,  gaining 
entrance  to  the  place,  were  unmasked  by  Madame 
La  Tour  and  shown  to  be  spies  ;  but  to  express  her 
contempt  she  put  them  out  as  if  they  were  not 
worthy  of  punishment.  They  returned  and  an- 
nounced the  absence  of  La  Tour  to  their  chief, 
who,  fancying  that  he  had  merely  to  fight  with  a 
woman,  made  a  general  assault,  only  to  be  beaten 
off.  For  three  days  he  boldly  sent  his  followers 
to  be  shot  by  the  woman  and  her  little  garrison  ; 
then,  finding  that  he  was  not  a  match  for  her,  he 
corrupted  one  of  her  sentries  with  money,  and  so 
bought  his  way  into  the  fort  he  could  not  capture. 
She  met  him  so  sturdily  after  he  had  entered  that 

103 


Myths  and  Legends 

he  offered  honorable  terms  of  capitulation,  and  she 
accepted  them  in  order  to  save  her  little  band  ;  yet 
no  sooner  had  the  papers  been  signed  and  the  de- 
fenders laid  down  their  arms  than  this  incredible 
creature  fell  upon  them,  had  them  bound,  and, 
singling  out  one  of  their  number  to  act  as  execu- 
tioner, hanged  them,  every  one,  save  him  who 
made  the  noose.  He  would  have  hanged  the 
woman,  too,  but  that  he  feared  the  rebuke  of  his 
king.  As  it  was,  he  put  a  halter  on  the  neck  of 
Madame  La  Tour,  and  compelled  her  to  see  this 
slaughter  of  her  servants  and  soldiers.  Her  hus- 
band impoverished,  calumniated,  and  driven  into 
exile,  her  friends  and  money  gone,  her  mind  filled 
with  the  memory  of  this  outrage,  the  woman  lived 
but  three  weeks  after  the  capture,  and  Fort  La 
Tour,  with  fifty  thousand  dollars'  worth  of  plun- 
der, passed  into  the  hands  of  Charnisay.  Strange, 
indeed,  was  the  sequel  to  this  siege.  Charnisay, 
in  more  or  less  disrepute, — rather  more  than  other- 
wise,— did  not  live  long  to  gloat  over  his  mean 
victory.  He  was  found  strangely  dead  in  a  shal- 
low river  near  Port  Royal.  And,  would  one  be- 
lieve it  ?  the  successful  suitor  for  his  widow's  hand 
was  La  Tour.  "  Your  husband  and  my  wife  dis- 
agreed," said  he,  "  but  that  time  is  gone.  Let  us 
live  in  peace." 


104 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

BROTHER   AND   SISTER   IN   BATTLE 

BRAVE  as  the  French  were,  and  skilled  in  war, 
they  forgot  much  in  this  country,  and  in 
various  decisive  conflicts  with  the  English  were 
overmastered  in  strategy  and  strength,  if  not  in 
courage.  It  may  be  that  the  imagined  remoteness 
of  the  military  works  on  our  frontiers,  no  matter 
of  whose  holding,  lulled  their  garrisons  into  a  false 
sense  of  security,  for  it  is  sure  that  in  our  day  such 
an  assault  as  that  of  Ethan  Allen  on  Ticonderoga 
or  that  of  Wolfe  on  Quebec  would  be  out  of  the 
question.  And  it  was  the  lack  of  a  guard  that  led 
to  the  capture  of  St.  John  by  the  English.  The 
attack  was  made  early  in  the  morning,  while  most 
of  the  French  behind  the  walls  were  sound  asleep. 
Alarmed  by  shouts  and  firing,  the  soldiers  tumbled 
out  of  their  bunks,  grasped  their  sabres  and  match- 
locks, and  had  made  a  sortie  before  they  realized 
that  they  were  undressed,  or  knew  how  large  a 
force  they  were  to  meet.  The  neglect  to  post 
guards  enough  was  a  fatal  one,  and  no  heroism  could 
redeem  it. 

Among  those  who  served  at  the  guns  of  the  fort 
with  furious  energy  was  a  woman,  and  an  English- 
woman at  that.  Two  years  before  she  had  wedded 
a  French  officer  while  on  a  visit  to  relatives  in 
Paris,  and  when  he  was  ordered  to  Acadia  she 
elected  to  follow  and  share  in  the  hardships  of  a 
soldier's  life  in  a  new  land.     The  rebukes  of  her 

105 


Myths  and  Legends 

relatives,  the  appeals  of  friends  not  to  side  against 
her  own  country  in  the  impending  war,  even  the 
warnings  of  her  husband  that  her  step  involved 
difficulty,  if  not  danger,  were  of  no  weight  with 
her.      Personal  love  outweighed  all  else. 

One  of  the  first  to  fall  in  the  attack  on  St.  John 
was  the  young  French  officer,  her  husband.  She 
grieved  only  for  a  moment.  Rage  succeeded  re- 
gret. She  went  from  one  man  to  another,  shriek- 
ing encouragement  and  orders,  sighting  and  firing 
the  cannon  whenever  a  rift  in  the  sulphur  clouds 
showed  the  red  flag  of  England  or  the  scarlet  coats 
of  its  defenders,  and  crying  for  revenge, — a  spirit  of 
war  incarnate.  Loud  cries,  increased  firing,  and  a 
hurry  of  men  told  her  that  the  besiegers  had  forced 
an  entrance.  The  fight  was  to  be  hand  to  hand. 
Wrenching  a  sabre  from  the  grasp  of  a  fallen  offi- 
cer, she  pushed  her  way  into  the  front  of  the  band, 
and,  as  the  storming  party  appeared,  carved  and 
slashed  lustily.  In  the  smoke  and  din  and  pressure 
the  invaders  hardly  knew  or  heeded  that  she  was  a 
woman  until  one  of  their  lieutenants  ran  forward 
and  grasped  the  arm  of  a  stalwart  trooper  who  was 
about  to  lunge  at  her  with  his  bayonet.  "  Stop, 
for  God's  sake,  man !  Spare  my  sister !"  com- 
manded the  officer.  At  these  words  the  woman's 
arm  fell,  her  sword  clanged  to  the  pavement,  and 
her  face  turned  white.  "  Brother !"  she  mur- 
mured, and  sank,  half  fainting,  into  his  arms,  while 
the  red-coats,  with  a  yell  of  triumph,  passed  through 

106 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

the  gate  and  over  the  walls.  Down  came  the  lilies 
of  France,  and  up  went  the  cross  of  St.  George. 
The  day  was  won,  and  the  defender  of  St.  John 
was  a  woman  once  more.  Neither  she  nor  her 
brother  had  known  that  the  other  was  in  the  bat- 
tle. Her  appeals  in  behalf  of  her  husband's  sol- 
diers were  heeded,  and  when  the  soreness  in  her 
heart  had  healed  she  was  married  again,  to  an  Eng- 
lish officer,  and  became  the  revered  great-grand- 
mother of  several  Blue-Nose  families. 


THE  GOLDEN   DOG 

UNLESS  it  may  be  the  citadel,  nothing  is  better 
known  in  Quebec  than  the  Golden  Dog.  It 
is  a  gilded  relief  representing  a  dog,  of  doubtful 
pedigree,  lying  on  the  ground  and  gnawing  a  bone. 
An  accompaniment  of  text  informs  us,  on  the  ani- 
mal's behalf, — 

Je  suis  un  chien  qui  ronge  l'os, 
En  le  rongeant  je  prends  mon  repos. 
Un  terns  viendra  qui  n'est  pas  venu 
Que  je  mordray  qui  m'aura  mordu. 

Which   has   been   fairly  done  into  English  in  this 
manner : 

I  am  a  dog  that  gnaws  his  bone. 
I  crouch  and  gnaw  it  all  alone. 
The  time  will  come,  which  is  not  yet, 
When  I'll  bite  him  by  whom  I'm  bit. 
107 


Myths  and  Legends 

The  purport  of  which  in  our  time  would  be 
that  the  dog  is  "  layin'  low,"  like  Br'er  Rabbit, 
and  watching  his  chance.  This  panel,  let  into  the 
front  of  the  post-office,  pertained  to  the  house  that 
formerly  occupied  its  site,  the  house  of  the  Chien 
d'Or,  built  in  1735.  It  passed  through  many  for- 
tunes, for  it  was  at  times  residence,  church,  shop, 
post-office,  Masonic  hall,  and  coffee-house,  and  here 
Horatio  Nelson  met  the  girl  he  would  have  married, 
— landlord  Prentice's  daughter, — swearing  that  if 
he  couldn't  have  her  he  would  leave  the  service ; 
but  he  couldn't,  and  didn't,  and  it  may  be  that  he 
fought  all  the  harder  for  his  disappointment.  Here, 
too,  one  Badeau,  a  merchant,  was  found  hanging  to 
a  nail,  dead.  Who  put  him  there,  and  why,  will 
never  be  known. 

The  builder  of  the  place  was  Nicholas  Phili- 
bert,  a  Bordeaux  man,  who  was  seeking  his  fortune 
here  as  a  trader.  He  was  a  decent  sort  of  fellow, 
but,  like  every  one  else  who  had  money  or  the  hope 
of  it,  he  was  wronged  and  swindled  by  Bigot,  the 
Royal  Intendant,  the  thirteenth  and  last  who  held 
that  office.  This  Bigot  was  a  curious  mixture  of 
craft  and  tyranny,  greed  and  recklessness.  His 
principal  aim  in  life  was  to  get  money,  but  he  gave 
a  good  many  hours  a  day  to  spending  it.  The 
splendor  of  the  entertainments  in  his  palace,  with 
its  four  hundred  and  eighty  feet  of  front,  and  his 
generosity  to  his  favorites,  were  in  strange  contrast 
to  the  stony  indifference   he  showed  to   suffering 

108 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

among  his  soldiers  and  the  poor.  So  constant  were 
his  drafts  on  the  royal  treasury  that  the  Queen  of 
France  innocently  asked  if  the  walls  of  Quebec 
were  made  of  gold.  Although  another  man  was 
the  ostensible  manager  of  it,  Bigot  was  the  owner 
of  the  great  shop  and  warehouse  where  food  and  furs 
were  bought  low  and  sold  at  extortionate  prices, 
and  which,  bearing  its  ill  reputation  as  widely  as  the 
town  itself  was  known,  was  called  "  The  Cheat." 
In  times  of  famine  he  fattened  in  proportion  as  the 
country  starved. 

The  owner  of  the  Chien  d'Or  was  outspoken  in 
his  condemnation  of  the  governor,  and  he  refused 
to  help  him  in  any  schemes  of  plunder.  Bigot 
resorted  to  sly  and  small  punishments.  Whatever 
the  injury  he  did  to  Philibert,  the  victim  feared 
him  too  much  to  retaliate  at  once,  yet  the  threat 
implied  in  his  golden  dog  was  more  courageous 
than  direct  assault,  because  it  published  his  enmity 
and  invited  repression.  He  gnawed  but  a  dry 
bone  of  revenge  to  the  last,  and  never  had  a  chance 
to  fix  his  teeth  in  the  throat  of  his  tormentor,  for 
one  of  Bigot's  officers,  who  had  been  quartered 
upon  Philibert  as  an  annoyance,  picked  a  quarrel 
on  a  trifle,  and  spitted  him  with  a  rapier  on  his 
own  door-step.  One  version  of  the  tale  has  it  that 
Philibert's  widow  placed  the  golden  dog  above  her 
door  as  a  threat  and  an  advertisement  of  the  wrong 
she  had  suffered.  Be  that  as  it  may,  Philibert's 
brother — some  say  his  son — came  from  Bordeaux 

109 


Myths  and  Legends 

to  visit  his  wrath  on  the  assassin.  The  murderer 
had  fled,  but,  getting  upon  his  trail,  he  followed 
him  up  and  down  the  earth,  spending  months  in 
the  quest,  until  he  had  run  him  to  his  hiding-place 
in  Pondicherry,  in  the  East  Indies.  There  he 
challenged  the  slayer,  and,  falling  upon  him  with  a 
fury  that  was  the  wilder  for  its  long  repression,  he 
cut  his  heart  in  two.  Nor  had  things  gone  well 
with  Bigot,  for  the  reports  of  his  misdoings  were 
not  long  in  reaching  King  Louis,  who  had  him 
sent  home  in  arrest,  clapped  him  into  the  Bastille, 
and  appropriated  the  wealth  for  which  Bigot  had 
sinned  so  industriously.  The  governor  had  among 
his  considerable  harem  a  certain  Madame  P.,  whose 
husband  had  been  sent  abroad  to  discover  riches, 
and  after  his  release  from  the  Bastille  this  woman 
allowed  to  the  fallen  magnate  a  small  pension,  which 
sufficed  to  keep  body  and  soul  together.  So  the 
once  powerful  and  greedy  and  splendid  representa- 
tive of  France  came  to  his  end  meanly,  with  time 
and  reason  for  repentance. 

THE   GRAVE  IN  THE   CELLAR 

THE  Intendant  Bigot  built  a  spacious  chateau 
for  himself  about  five  miles  from  Quebec, 
at  the  foot  of  Charlesbourg  Mountain.  The  ruin 
of  the  ChSteau  Bigot,  or  Beaumanoir,  lasting  to  our 
time,  has  borne  an  evil  reputation  for  spooks,  and 
is  one  of  many  places   thought  to   contain   hidden 

no 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

treasure.  In  the  cellar  is  a  grave  surmounted  by  a 
stone  marked  only  with  a  letter  C.  This  initial  is 
understood  to  stand  for  Caroline. 

In  the  eagerness  of  the  chase  Bigot  was  separated 
from  his  companions  one  evening,  and  plunged  into 
a  part  of  the  wilderness  he  had  never  before  ex- 
plored. His  quarry  having  escaped  him,  he  came  to 
a  sudden  sense  that  he  was  lost ;  that  he  had  taken 
no  account  of  bearings  ;  that  he  knew  not  which 
way  was  north,  south,  east,  or  west,  or  whether 
Quebec  lay  before  or  behind  him.  He  sank  on  a 
fallen  log  to  wait  until  the  rising  of  the  moon  should 
give  some  clue  to  his  whereabouts,  when  his  ears 
caught  a  soft  but  steady  footfall.  He  held  his 
musket  ready,  for  he  thought  of  bears,  and,  see- 
ing a  shape  approaching,  was  about  to  fire.  The 
figure  advanced  into  a  little  twilit  opening,  and,  lo  ! 
it  was  a  graceful  and  handsome  girl,  dressed  in  the 
garb  of  an  Indian.  He  accosted  her  in  his  best 
manner,  and  prayed  her  that  if  she  knew  any  trail 
out  of  the  wood  she  would  lead  him  back  to  his 
chateau.  This  she  could,  and  did,  readily  enough, 
and,  finding  the  young  woman  to  be  even  more 
attractive  in  the  light  than  in  the  shadow,  the 
Intendant  persuaded  her  to  enter  his  home  and 
rest.  Whether  force,  fraud,  or  affection  kept  her 
there  is  not  known,  but  she  never  left  the  chateau. 
Caroline,  for  that  was  her  name,  was  a  half-breed, 
the  daughter  of  a  French  officer  and  an  Indian 
mother.     She  quickly  won  a  place  in  what  passed 

in 


Myths  and  Legends 

for  the  affections  of  Bigot  that  had  never  been 
gained  by  his  other  favorites,  and  in  the  comfort 
and  seclusion  of  her  richly  furnished  apartments  on 
an  upper  floor  she  found  certain  amends  for  the 
gross  and  common  life  of  an  Indian  village. 

She  had  been  installed  as  mistress  here  for  some 
time,  and  had  grown  accustomed  to  her  place. 
Those  about  her  seemingly  held  her  in  esteem. 
On  a  night  when  there  had  been  no  roistering  and 
no  festivity,  when  the  brook  sang  its  song  sleep- 
ily and  the  moon  poured  its  white  light  through 
the  Gothic  windows,  the  quiet  of  the  house  was 
broken  by  a  shriek  of  agony  coming  from  Caro- 
line's chamber.  Bigot,  being  first  to  reach  it,  re- 
ceived into  his  arms  the  drooping  form  of  the  girl, 
who  made  an  attempt  to  speak,  but,  failing,  pointed 
to  the  dagger  that  had  been  plunged  into  her  breast, 
then  breathed  her  last.  A  servant  reported  the 
brief  vision  of  a  shadow  on  a  private  stair  leading 
to  the  room.  No  clue  was  ever  gained  to  the 
criminal  or  the  cause  of  the  crime.  One  surmise 
is  that  it  was  the  father  of  the  girl,  who  hated 
Bigot.  Again,  it  was  fancied  that  it  might  be  her 
mother,  maddened  by  her  shame.  It  might  have 
been  some  foe  of  the  Intendant,  striking  him  in 
what  he  believed  to  be  a  vulnerable  point  in  his 
usually  hard  heart.  It  may  have  been  Bigot.  The 
general  belief  is  that  the  assassin  was  Angelique 
des  Moloises,  an  adventuress  of  Quebec,  who  had 
decided  to  marry  Bigot  herself,  not  that  she  loved 

112 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

him,  but  she  wanted  to  rule  New  France.  She 
was  jealous  of  the  sweet-natured  Caroline,  and  may- 
have  had  reason  for  bitterness  toward  the  Intend- 
ant.  An  old  version  of  the  story  makes  her  re- 
sponsible for  the  murder,  but  has  it  brought  about 
through  a  gift  of  flowers  to  the  half-breed  girl,  the 
bouquet  having  been  poisoned  by  the  Canadian 
Borgia,  the  notorious  La  Corriveau,  with  some- 
thing resembling  the  acqua  to/ana  of  Italy. 

THE  MOUNTAIN  AND  THE  SEE 

IT'S  of  no  use  to  try,  you  can't  get  away  from  it 
in  Quebec, — that  old  yarn  about  George  III. 
and  Dr.  Mountain.  Every  guide-book  tells  it, 
every  guide  repeats  it,  and  every  visitor  is  supposed 
to  laugh  the  first  eight  or  ten  times  he  hears  it. 
Some  people  pretend  that  they  can  whistle  it.  So 
you  may  as  well  know  the  worst  and  have  it  over 
at  once.  The  episcopal  see  of  Quebec  was  a  fat 
benefice,  and  many  prelates  were  willing  to  sacri- 
fice toast  and  tea  and  other  domestic  luxuries  that 
they  might  assume  the  charge  of  it,  for  a  vacancy 
had  occurred,  and  several  eyes  looked  longingly, 
with  anxious  side  glances  toward  the  king.  Among 
the  willing  ones  was  the  Reverend  Dr.  Mountain, 
of  London,  who,  having  the  king's  ear  one  day, 
when  George  had  been  greatly  comforted  by  port 
and  flattery,  made  this  remark  :  "  Your  majesty 
can  fill  the  see  of  Quebec  by  faith." 

8  113 


Myths  and  Legends 

M  How,  by  faith  ?"  inquired  the  head  of  the 
Church. 

"  You  can  say,  '  Be  this  Mountain  removed  into 
that  see/  and  it  shall  be  so." 

George  III.  meditated  for  some  minutes,  and  was 
finally  about  to  take  his  afternoon  nap,  when  sud- 
denly he  turned,  broke  into  a  roar  of  laughter, 
merrily  punched  the  clergyman  in  the  back,  and 
shouted,  "I  see  it!  I  see  it!  Sea:  see.  Ha,  ha, 
ha  !  Well,  the  Mountain  shall  be  removed  to  that 
see."     And  it  was. 

The  moral  of  which  appears  to  be  to  make 
yourself  explicit  when  you  converse  with  royalty, 
and  to  request  favors  only  after  it  has  had  its  dinner. 

THE  SIN  OF  FATHER  ST.  BERNARD 

IN  his  native  France  Father  St.  Bernard  was 
merely  important  enough  to  be  suspected  of 
lacking  sympathy  for  the  Revolution,  without  hav- 
ing either  the  wealth  or  the  title  to  justify  such  an 
enmity ;  for  he  was  a  second  son,  and  it  was  his 
elder  brother  who  would  fall  heir  to  the  honors 
and  riches  of  the  family.  Being  a  ready  and  elo- 
quent speaker,  and  not  by  instinct  a  fighter,  he  had 
accepted  the  usual  alternative  for  the  army,  and 
entered  the  Church.  At  the  breaking  out  of  the 
war  against  aristocracy  and  religion  in  his  native 
land,  his  friends  prevailed  on  him  to  seek  the 
peaceful  shores  of  the  New  World,  and,  provided 

114 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

with  letters  to  eminent  prelates  in  Quebec,  he  set 
sail  for  that  city,  where  he  was  presently  installed 
as  chaplain  in  the  convent  of  the  Ursulines. 

The  nuns  became  very  prompt  in  their  devo- 
tions when  the  handsome,  dark-eyed,  rich-voiced 
young  priest  entered  on  his  duties,  and  one  of  the 
first  offices  that  fell  to  him  was  that  of  accepting 
as  a  member  of  the  order  a  young  woman  of  rare 
beauty  who,  in  a  season  of  melancholy  following 
her  orphanage,  had  resolved  to  take  the  veil.  Her 
relatives  had  tried  to  dissuade  her  from  this  step,  the 
mother  superior  and  the  priest  had  cautioned  her 
against  a  haste  that  she  might  repent;  but  she  was 
firm  in  the  decision  to  which  she  had  held  through 
her  novitiate,  and  as  Sister  Louisa  she  was  installed 
as  a  member  of  the  holy  community.  His  duties 
often  obliged  Father  St.  Bernard  to  hold  interviews 
with  this  nun.  Her  modesty,  gentleness,  and  inno- 
cence commended  her  to  his  manhood,  as  her  cul- 
tivated mind  had  appealed  to  his  intellect  and  her 
piety  to  his  priestly  function.  At  first  unconscious 
of  the  reason,  he  sought  more  frequent  occasions 
for  meeting  her  than  the  others,  and  when  at  last  it 
dawned  upon  him  that  he  loved  this  girl  the  time 
had  passed  for  cure.  Often  while  he  ministered  at 
the  altar  his  eye  roved  to  the  figure  he  had  learned 
to  distinguish  among  all  others  of  the  host,  and 
he  lurked  in  the  shadow  of  columns,  prayerfully, 
greedily  watching  her  as  she  passed  to  her  devo- 
tions or  knelt  to  the  Virgin  in  appeal  for  strength. 

ii5 


Myths  and  Legends 

For  in  her  heart  the  same  battle  was  being  fought 
that  raged  in  his.  She  had  read  love  in  his  eyes 
and  answered  it.  Nature,  that  knows  no  creeds, 
no  law,  no  prohibition,  had  put  her  command  on 
both,  and  it  overbore  their  promises  to  heaven. 
When,  with  hesitation  and  shame,  he  declared  him- 
self to  her,  she  left  her  hand  in  his  and  only  turned 
away  her  head.  Could  it  be,  he  asked,  that  she 
could  forgive  him,  that  she  could  condone,  that  she 
could  love  ?  She  sank  against  his  breast.  In  a 
delirium  of  joy  he  clasped  her  in  his  arms,  kissing 
her  again  and  again,  until  the  ringing  of  the  Angelus 
brought  them  to  themselves  with  a  shock.  It  was 
the  last  service  they  attended  together  in  the  con- 
vent, for  they  fled  that  night,  were  married,  and 
found  an  asylum  in  the  United  States. 

Seven  years  passed, — years  of  sometime  hap- 
piness, dimmed  with  regrets  and  fears.  In  their 
most  blissful  hours  they  were  tortured  by  the  recol- 
lection of  an  unkept  trust  and  broken  vows.  Spec- 
tres of  dishonor  walked  with  them  in  their  garden, 
and  dreams  of  punishment  haunted  their  sleep. 
The  time  came  when  the  hours  of  repentance  out- 
numbered those  of  gladness,  and  their  talk  fell  often 
on  the  days  in  Quebec  when  they  were  innocent 
and  served  God  with  clean  hearts.  "  Oh,"  cried 
St.  Bernard,  at  last,  "  is  it  impossible  to  conjoin 
the  religious  life  and  human  love  ?  Must  our  pas- 
sions always  be  our  masters  ?  Hapless  partner  of 
my  sin,  I  pray  that  you  may  never  feel  this  wretched 

116 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

state  as  I  do.     God  must  despise  me,  for  I  despise 
myself." 

The  violence  of  this  renunciation — for  so  she 
construed  it — astonished  and  alarmed  the  wife, 
who,  with  a  sobbing  cry,  fainted  on  his  shoulder. 
She  awoke  in  a  delirium,  and  several  days  passed 
before  her  reason  returned  to  her.  Lying  on  her 
pillows,  pale  and  thin,  she  lifted  her  sad  eyes  to 
him,  as  he  bent  anxiously  above  her,  and  said, 
faintly,  "  We  have  erred  in  loving,  but  reparation 
is  in  our  power.  We  must  part.  Do  not  weep. 
Be  strong.     Be  true  to  your  oath." 

It  was  decided  to  return.  He  prostrated  him- 
self before  the  bishop,  asking  if  heaven  still  held 
mercy  for  such  as  he,  and  the  good  old  man  re- 
ceived him  into  the  Church  again,  as  a  shepherd 
would  receive  a  strayed  sheep  into  the  fold.  He 
resumed  his  robes,  and  was  assigned  to  missionary 
duty  on  the  frontier  among  the  Indians,  who 
learned  to  trust  him,  and  even  held  him  in  affec- 
tion before  his  days  of  usefulness  were  ended. 
His  wife,  taking  again  the  name  of  Sister  Louisa, 
re-entered  the  convent  as  a  penitent  with  a  truer 
knowledge  of  the  world  than  when  she  had  taken 
the  veil,  and  a  softer  feeling  for  transgressors.  She 
became  the  most  sad,  most  silent,  most  pious  of  the 
sisters,  and  when  she  died  they  buried  her,  at  her 
own  request,  in  the  corner  of  the  convent  garden 
where  Father  St.  Bernard  had  first  clasped  her  in 
his  arms. 

117 


Myths  and  Legends 

LAROUCHE   HAD   HIS   WISH 

ON  tithing  day  Davy  Larouche,  of  St.  Roch, 
— a  fat,  merry  fellow,  with  whom  the 
world  always  went  well, — is  up  betimes,  sprucing 
himself  at  the  glass.  "  Aha !  you  are  going  to 
see  the  girls  again  ?"  cries  his  wife, — "  you,  who 
were  that  foolish  and  bashful  that  I  had  to  do  half 
the  courting." 

"  Get  along  with  you,"  chuckles  Davy.  "Don't 
you  know  this  is  the  day  to  take  tithes  to  the  cure  ? 
You  wouldn't  have  me  meet  his  reverence  in  a 
blouse.  If  the  weather  had  been  a  little  better 
there  would  have  been  more  for  him,  and  that 
means  more  for  us.  We  can  stand  it,  but  some  of 
the  neighbors  feel  the  pinch  a  little." 

Larouche  ate  his  breakfast,  loaded  his  sacks  into 
his  sleigh,  lit  his  pipe,  and  in  a  contented  spirit 
drove  off  toward  the  village,  singing.  The  Cana- 
dian habitant  is  among  the  few  left  on  earth  who 
sing  without  being  paid  to.  In  passing  through  a 
wood  his  jocund  voice  seems  to  have  attracted  the 
attention  of  a  man  whom  Davy  had  never  seen 
before,  a  stranger  to  the  country,  for  he  was  not 
dressed  for  rough  life  or  cool  weather.  He  was 
a  fair-complexioned  man,  of  thirty  years,  maybe, 
with  long  locks  falling  over  his  shoulders  and  the 
most  beautiful,  searching  blue  eyes  ever  seen.  He 
wore  a  flowing  blue  robe,  belted  at  the  waist. 
Without  knowing  why  he  did  so,  Davy  stopped 

118 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

short  in  the  road,  and  stared  with  consuming  curi- 
osity, not  unmixed  with  awe. 

"  Peace  be  with  you,"  said  the  stranger,  in  grave, 
sweet  tones. 

"  The  same  to  you,"  stammered  Davy. 

"  Where  do  you  go  ?" 

"  To  the  priest,  with  my  tithe." 

"  You  had  a  good  harvest,  if  this  load  represents 
one  bushel  in  every  twenty-six." 

"  Pretty  good  ;  but  if  I  could  have  made  the 
weather — ah  !  then  we  should  have  seen  a  har- 
vest !" 

"  Be  it  so.  Hereafter  you  shall  have  such 
weather  as  you  wish." 

The  man  in  the  robe  stepped  aside  to  make  way 
for  Davy's  sleigh,  and  the  farmer,  as  he  passed, 
turned  to  look  at  him  once  more,  but  nothing  could 
he  see  of  him.  He  allowed  the  fat  old  horse  to 
take  his  own  snail  pace,  he  had  fallen  into  such  a 
state  of  wonder  upon  this  promise,  and  a  question- 
ing if  the  stranger  were  an  angel  or  a  lunatic. 

Next  year  at  tithing-time  Davy  harnessed  no 
horse,  but  took  his  offering  in  a  handkerchief.  He 
was  neither  plump  nor  merry,  and  he  did  not  sing. 
Midway  in  the  wood  he  gave  a  nervous  start,  for 
the  stranger  had  again  stepped  from  among  the 
trees  and  raised  his  hand,  as  in  blessing.  "  Peace 
be  with  you,"  said  he. 

"  Thank  you,"  answered  Davy,  scratching  his 
head  and  putting  his  bundle  behind  him.     "  I  need 

119 


Myths  and  Legends 

it.  I'm  at  odds  with  all  the  neighbors,  and  what 
to  do  I  don't  know.  They  will  have  it  I'm  a  sor- 
cerer, because  every  time  I've  happened  to  wish 
for  a  certain  kind  of  weather  we've  had  it.  The 
sun  has  been  hot  at  the  wrong  time,  and  the  rain 
has  been  cold  at  the  wrong  time.  We've  had 
drouths  and  freshets,  and  the  seed  has  been  washed 
out  of  the  earth,  and  crops  have  dried  and  withered 
and  rotted  and  been  torn  with  wind,  and  I  don't 
know  what  all.  The  stock  hasn't  fed  as  it  should, 
and  even  my  family's  gone  against  me." 

The  one  in  the  blue  robe  smiled.  "  You  are 
convinced,  then,"  said  he,  "  that  God  knows  bet- 
ter than  his  children  what  is  for  their  good  ?  Your 
wishing  power  is  gone,  and  next  year  your  tithes 
will  fill  your  sleigh  again." 

And  Davy  Larouche  trudged  on,  wondering. 

THE   HEART  OF   FRONTENAC 

IN  the  court  of  the  Fourteenth  Louis  there  was 
but  one  man  who  could  rival  him  in  grace  or 
looks,  at  least  in  the  opinion  that  was  whispered 
behind  the  palace  doors.  That  was  Louis  de  Buade, 
Count  of  Frontenac.  Louis  placidly  regarded  him- 
self as  the  handsomest  man  in  France,  and  he  had 
a  woman-like  hatred  of  a  rival.  In  fact,  he  was  so 
secure  in  this  pleasant  self-estimation  that  it  never 
occurred  to  him  to  look  for  a  rival  until  he  chanced 
on  one  of  his  favorites,  Madame  de  Montespan,  in 

120 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

something  too  earnest  converse  with  this  Fronte- 
nac.  In  that  moment  his  vanity  received  a  serious 
blow.  He  kept  his  eye  on  these  two  people,  and 
put  his  spies  upon  them,  gaining  an  increased  as- 
surance that  it  would  be  for  the  peace  of  Paris  if 
the  impudent  fellow  could  busy  himself  with  affairs 
at  some  distance  from  the  city.  Le  Grand  Mo- 
narque  was  not  usually  suspicious,  and  the  Montes- 
pan  had  wonderful  control  over  him,  but  this  time 
he  was  decided,  and  Frontenac  was  sent  to  Canada. 
Three  women  viewed  this  exile  with  varying  emo- 
tions. The  queen  had  hoped  that  Frontenac  would 
succeed  with  the  Montespan  woman,  that  she  might 
claim  a  little  of  the  king's  attention  herself.  The 
Countess  Frontenac  had  hardened  her  heart  against 
her  husband  when  she  realized  that  in  marriages  of 
state  love  has  no  place,  and  that  even  if  she  were 
disposed  to  respect  her  lord,  he  cared  nothing  for 
her.  She  refused  to  go  with  him  to  Canada,  and 
remained  at  home.  As  for  the  Montespan,  no- 
body knows  whether  she  was  glad  or  sorry,  but, 
whichever  it  was,  she  applied  herself  to  ruling  the 
king  with  increased  severity,  and  had  Louis  been  a 
more  sensitive  man  he  would  probably  have  made  a 
declaration  of  independence  and  abandoned  her  more 
promptly  for  Madame  de  Maintenon  than  he  did. 

Frontenac  was  made  governor  of  Canada,  the 
king  not  caring  to  proclaim  his  motive  baldly,  and, 
while  he  maintained  in  Quebec  a  state  worthy 
of  his  position,  his  dignities  were  solitary.      He 

121 


Myths  and  Legends 

was  urbane  toward  his  associates  and  toward  those 
who  called  to  see  him  about  matters  of  state,  but  he 
never  broke  his  silence  respecting  affairs  in  France. 
Louis  lived  to  an  aggravating  age,  his  stormy- 
career  of  war  and  his  wasting  ambitions  seeming 
but  to  toughen  him,  and  Frontenac,  hopeless  of  a 
return,  though  he  was  allowed  to  make  one  brief 
visit  to  his  native  land,  died  in  1698,  a  lonely  old 
grandee.  They  buried  him  in  the  Recollet  church, 
near  the  Place  d'Armes.  A  surgeon  removed  the 
heart  of  Frontenac,  enclosed  it  in  a  metal  box,  and 
sent  it  home  to  his  widow.  She  coldly  refused  to 
receive  it,  for  in  life  it  had  never  been  hers.  The 
next  ship  took  this  handful  of  unfortunate  dust  back 
to  Quebec,  where  it  was  placed  in  the  coffin,  and 
for  a  century  remained  undisturbed.  When  the 
Recollet  church  was  burned  the  box  containing 
the  heart  was  among  the  few  things  that  escaped 
destruction. 

THE  DEVIL  DANCE  ON  ORLEANS 

WHEN  Marie  Josephe  Corriveau,  of  Quebec, 
was  condemned  to  death  in  1763,  by  one 
of  General  Murray's  courts-martial,  everybody  said 
that  she  deserved  it.  She  had  killed  her  first  hus- 
band by  pouring  melted  lead  into  his  ear.  Number 
two  she  choked  with  a  noose,  which  he  succeeded 
in  casting  off,  and  after  he  had  forgiven  her  for  this 
discourtesy  she    beat   his   brains    out.     To    other 

122 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

people  it  was  rumored  that  she  had  given  subtile 
poisons.  Her  guiltless  old  father  tried  to  save  her 
by  alleging  her  crime  upon  himself;  but  the  only- 
result  of  his  plea  was  to  get  himself  hanged  with- 
out saving  her.  The  execution  occurred  on  the 
Heights  of  Abraham,  but  the  body  of  La  Cor- 
riveau  was  encased  in  an  iron  cage  and  swung  from 
a  gibbet  near  the  site  of  the  temperance  monument 
at  Point  Levis.  Some  say  that  she  was  never  hanged, 
but  was  shut  in  this  cage  to  perish  of  cold,  hunger, 
thirst,  and  madness,  and  that  her  groans  and  cries 
lasted  for  several  days,  growing  weaker  and  weaker, 
until  at  last  only  the  creak  of  the  chains  was 
heard.  This  creaking  was  said  to  be  the  call  of 
the  body  for  interment,  and  it  excited  such  terror 
that  the  young  men  of  the  district  cut  it  down  and 
buried  it  at  night  in  a  spot  where,  eighty-seven  years 
later,  it  was  discovered  by  the  parish  grave-digger 
— and  sold  to  Barnum.  The  cage  on  being  opened 
was  found  to  contain  only  a  thigh-bone. 

But  burial  did  not  silence  the  creature.  She 
somehow  got  out  of  her  cage  and  her  grave  and 
walked  after  people  who  were  late  on  the  road, — 
blue,  brown,  withered,  with  tangled  locks,  an  alto- 
gether fearful  object.  Among  these  late  goers  was 
citizen  Dube,  a  truthful  man,  never  timid  in  the 
daytime,  nor  at  night  either,  if  he  could  get  rum 
enough.  It  was  his  fate  to  be  abroad  in  the  small 
hours  on  the  south  shore  of  the  river.  He  had 
prayed  for  the  peace  of  the  Corriveau  in  passing, 

123 


Myths  and  Legends 

and,  seeing  a  bluish  light  over  on  the  island  of 
Orleans,  concluded  that  something  was  astir  there  : 
so,  tethering  his  horse  on  a  good  patch  of  grass,  he 
huddled  in  his  cabriolet  and  watched  the  light  for 
very  comfort.  Not  but  that  he  knew  of  the  ignes 
fatui,  the  fool  fires  or  will-o'-the-wisps,  that  were 
carried  by  the  devils  over  on  Orleans  to  lure  people 
into  swamps  and  fly  off  with  their  souls  as  they 
were  drowning,  but  this  light  was  brighter  than  the 
will-o'-the-wisps.  And  now  he  could  see  figures 
moving.  Their  aspect  did  not  quiet  him.  They 
were  of  uncommon  height  and  size,  were  bony, 
hare-lipped,  and  pig-snouted,  had  tusks,  and  flour- 
ished long  tails.  Had  not  the  night  been  uncom- 
monly clear  and  he  uncommonly  sharp-sighted,  he 
could  not  have  seen  these  handsome  fellows  at  that 
distance,  nor  could  he  have  heard  their  remarks 
about  him  unless  his  ears  had  been  wide  open, — 
proof  enough,  as  he  afterward  submitted,  that  he 
was  not  drunk.  The  demons,  for  such  they  doubt- 
less were,  began  to  dance  and  sing.  Their  voices 
brayed  and  growled  and  cackled,  and  they  sang  a 
fool  song  to  the  effect  that  they  would  soon  have 
Dube  for  supper.  Their  master,  a  huge  creature  in 
a  cap  with  a  spruce-tree  on  it  by  way  of  feather, 
pounded  a  mighty  pot  with  the  clapper  of  an  un- 
blessed bell,  holding  the  vessel  up  toward  the  gog- 
gling farmer,  to  show  in  what  they  intended  to  boil 
him  ;  but,  though  he  was  disturbed,  Dube  did  not 
lose  his  self-possession.     "  You  rascals,"  he  bawled, 

124 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

u  you'll  get  none  of  the  pork  that  lards  my  ribs  for 
your  supper." 

They  answered  only  with  gibbering  laughter 
and  capered  the  higher.  Then  two  fleshless  hands 
caught  him  by  the  shoulders.  It  was  La  Corriveau 
out  of  her  cage.  His  hair  crawled  over  his  scalp 
like  worms,  and  he  sweat  ice-water.  "  My  dear 
Francois,"  squealed  the  hag,  "  do  me  the  favor  to 
dance  with  my  friends." 

"  You  limb  of  the  Old  One,  is  this  what  I  get 
for  praying  for  the  quiet  of  your  soul  ?" 

She  laughed — the  sound  was  like  a  wind  play- 
ing over  empty  bottles — and  butted  him  with  her 
unfleshed  head.  "  Take  me  over  to  the  island, 
there's  a  dear.  I  must  meet  them,  and  only  a 
Christian  can  ferry  me,  for  the  river  is  blessed." 
Here  she  tickled  the  unhappy  man  under  the  chin 
with  her  claw-like  fingers.  Dube  pulled  away 
from  her.  "  Get  over  as  best  you  may,  old  gal- 
lows-bird," he  cried. 

"  Dog  of  a  Christian,  bring  her  here,  or  it  will 
be  the  worse  for  you,"  clamored  the  imps. 

"  Yes,  my  dear ;  obey  the  gentlemen,"  croaked 
the  bare-bones. 

"  But  how  in  the  dev — how,  in  the  name  of  the 
good  Sainte  Anne"  (here  a  shuddering  silence  fell), 
"  am  I  to  get  over  ?     I  have  no  boat." 

"  Then  I'll  strangle  you,  and  fly  across  on  your 
departing  soul." 

Dube  saw  the  blue  light  flame  up,  saw  the  com- 
125 


Myths  and  Legends 

pany  leap  in  a  more  frantic  dance  than  before,  and 
heard  the  screech  of  the  vampire  as  she  sprang  at 
his  throat.  He  gurgled  a  prayer  and  tumbled  in  a 
heap  in  his  cabriolet.  When  his  senses  returned 
to  him  he  sneezed  himself  into  a  sitting  posture. 
He  was  alone,  and  it  was  a  chilly  morning.  Dawn 
was  flushing  the  east.  He  reached  for  his  bottle, 
for  he  sorely  needed  spirituous  comfort,  but  the 
Corriveau  had  emptied  it.  Nor  did  he  fill  it  when 
he  got  to  town.  He  was  a  light  drinker  after  that 
adventure,  and  died  in  an  odor  of  sanctity  which, 
his  neighbors  held,  was  better  than  that  of  alcohol. 

THE   DEFIANCE  AT  ELORA 

ELORA,  with  its  cascades,  its  ravines,  and  its 
overhanging  cliff, — one  of  the  many  Lovers' 
Leaps,  where  an  Indian  girl  stepped  into  eternity 
to  end  a  hopeless  love, — and  its  buried  horde  of 
purple  wampum,  giving  rise  to  tales  of  hidden 
treasure,  is  destined  to  be  widely  known  for  its 
romantic  and  beautiful  setting.  Of  especial  in- 
terest is  the  "  Broken  Fall,"  with  a  beetling  pulpit 
of  rock  standing  against  the  rush  of  waters  at  its 
base,  for  to  this  pertains  a  myth  of  daring  equal  to 
that  of  Ajax.  In  common  with  most  other  Indians, 
and  with  the  Greeks,  the  Ojibways  believed  in 
guardian  deities  of  mountains,  forests,  rivers,  lakes, 
seas,  and  clouds.  Nations  and  people  invest  their 
gods  with   their  own  qualities,  so  that  a  military 

126 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

nation  will  pray  to  a  fighting  god,  a  money-loving 
race  will  have  messages  from  their  god  to  get  land 
and  gold,  the  god  of  some  tribes  is  a  fiend,  the  God 
of  Calvin  was  a  tyrant,  and  the  God  of  our  own 
time  is  a  God  of  love  and  mercy.  The  Indian  ap- 
preciated the  world's  beauty  and  lived  close  to 
nature,  yet  in  loveliness  and  brightness  he  saw  as 
little  that  is  gentle,  that  spoke  of  justice,  order, 
law,  and  love,  as  if  he  had  been  civilized.  He 
lived  by  shedding  the  blood  of  animals,  and  it  was 
an  easy  passage  from  that  to  shedding  the  blood  of 
men.  Hence  he  believed  in  gods  that  loved  de- 
struction, and  sacrifices  were  sweet  to  them. 

Considering  these  facts,  the  courage  shown  by 
the  Ojibway  chief  who  lived  in  a  cave  here  at 
Elora  was  wonderful,  yet  because  of  it  he  tri- 
umphed. The  manitou  of  the  river,  like  the  spirit 
of  Niagara,  was  angered  by  the  settlement  of  people 
on  its  banks,  and  his  voice  in  the  fall  roared  inces- 
sant protest.  Now  and  again,  after  rain  or  snow 
melting,  he  hurled  such  volumes  of  water  over  the 
cliff  tnat  wigwams  on  the  shore  were  destroyed, 
canoes  were  swept  away,  and  the  Indians  were  re- 
strained from  hunting  and  fishing  until  the  flood 
subsided.  To  keep  this  genius  of  the  stream  from 
too  serious  mischief,  sacrifices  were  made  to  him, 
the  usual  victim  being  an  Ojibway  girl.  Keechi- 
matik,  who  ruled  here  in  1750,  was  struck  by  the 
modesty  and  beauty  of  one  such  girl  who  had  been 
brought  to  his  cave,  bound,  that  she  might  be  de- 

127 


Myths  and  Legends 

voted  to  the  manitou.  The  people  were  deaf  to 
the  appeal  of  her  old  mother  that  she  be  allowed 
to  take  her  daughter's  place,  for  her  life  was  nearly- 
over,  whereas  the  girl  had  all  to  live  for  and  might 
become  the  founder  of  a  noble  family.  Already 
the  river  god  had  seen  his  intended  victim,  and 
was  howling  and  hissing  his  demand  that  she  be 
thrown  to  his  embrace.  The  elders  of  the  tribe 
advanced  to  seize  her,  when  the  chief  sprang 
forward  and  with  raised  arm  bade  them  desist. 
"  This  maid  shall  not  be  given  to  the  god,"  he 
cried.     "  I  claim  her  for  myself." 

Turning  to  the  fall,  the  chief  resumed,  "  Too 
many  of  our  people,  O  manitou,  have  we  given  to 
your  keeping.  I  see  you  rising  in  the  spray,  I  feel 
your  cold  breath  on  my  face  ;  you  have  called  the 
thunder  birds  out  of  the  south  to  strike  at  us,  and 
their  black  wings  are  spreading  across  the  heaven. 
I  hear  your  voice  in  rage,  and  our  medicine-men 
who  know  its  speech  tell  us  that  you  demand  this 
woman  for  your  prey.  It  shall  not  be,  for  she  is 
my  wife."  Cutting  the  cords  that  bound  her,  the 
chief  raised  her  to  her  feet ;  she  fell  on  his  breast 
in  gratitude,  and  the  people  hurried  away  from  the 
coming  storm,  fearing  an  instant  punishment  for  this 
act.     The  tempest  passed,  and  none  was  harmed. 

What  the  god  could  not  enforce  he  could  gain 
by  fraud.  He  visited  the  wife  in  dreams,  charging 
her  to  slay  Keechimatik,  because  he  was  faithless  to 
her.     The  husband  had  gone  to  the  pool  to  fish. 

128 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

Little  did  he  reck  of  the  woman's  changed  heart, 
for  she,  under  spell  of  these  visions,  had  concealed 
herself  behind  the  islet  in  the  fall.  A  twang,  a 
whir,  and  an  arrow  transfixes  the  heart  of  the 
chief.  He  crawls  to  his  cave  to  die,  while  she, 
attempting  to  regain  the  shore,  is  caught  in  the 
mad  current,  and  the  manitou  receives  her  at  last 
with  a  howl  of  triumph. 

THE  MIRACLES  OF  SAINTE  ANNE 

BOATMEN  sing  prayers  and  praises  to  the 
good  Sainte  Anne  ;•  the  habitants  kneel  at 
wayside  shrines  to  her ;  they  build  chapels  to  her 
memory ;  they  make  pilgrimages  to  her  finger  in 
Baie  St.  Paul ;  and  well  may  they  do  these  things, 
for  she  has  been  their  friend  in  a  thousand  perils. 
True,  the  French  have  a  mediaeval  honesty  of  faith, 
and  they  pray  to  many  other  saints  beside,  nay, 
are  on  intimate  terms  with  them.  It  is  recorded 
by  the  proud  old  family  of  Levis,  after  which  they 
have  named  Point  Levis  (not  Levi),  opposite 
Quebec,  that  when  a  chevalier  of  that  house  was 
about  to  salute  a  statue  of  the  Virgin,  he  heard  a 
sweet  voice  from  heaven  saying,  "  Cousin,  keep 
on  your  hat."  All  through  old  Canada  you  find 
churches  where  sacred  relics — bits  of  bone  or 
withered  toes  and  fingers — work  wonders  of  heal- 
ing among  the  afflicted,  and  a  well-known  type  of 
the  votive  church  is  that  of  Bonsecours,  in  Mon- 
9  I29 


Myths  and  Legends 

treal,  where  stands  an  image  of  the  Virgin  that 
has  for  years  exercised  a  miraculous  power  of 
saving  sailors  in  storms  and  besetments,  and  they 
have  made  many  offerings  in  return. 

Yet,  of  all  churches  in  the  colony,  that  of  Ste. 
Anne  de  Beaupre  (St,  Anne  of  the  Bowsprit)  is 
most  noted.  The  name  is  derived  from  this  cir- 
cumstance. Two  fishermen  were  caught  in  a  storm 
on  the  St.  Lawrence,  and  one  was  swept  overboard 
and  drowned.  The  other,  clinging  to  the  bow- 
sprit, swore  that  if  Sainte  Anne  would  help  him  to 
reach  the  shore  he  would  build  a  shrine  to  her. 
The  boat  bumped  into  the  land  at  the  site  of  the 
chapel,  whose  erection  he  undertook  forthwith. 
This  first  chapel  was  finished  in  1660;  the  new 
one,  raised  by  the  Pope  to  a  shrine  of  the  first 
order,  in  1876.  The  healing  spring  was  a  sepa- 
rate discovery.  It  was  while  working  here  to  lay 
the  foundations  for  a  house  that  a  habitant,  Louis 
Guimont,  who  had  been  racked  with  rheumatism, 
suddenly  found  relief.  Scoffers  said  that  he  had 
sweat  the  disease  out  by  hard  work,  but  Guimont 
scoffed  at  them  in  turn,  for  had  not  Sainte  Anne 
blessed  the  spring  beside  the  way  and  whispered 
words  of  promise  to  him  ?  The  fame  of  the  spot 
went  through  the  country.  Increasing  thousands 
go  to  it  on  crutches  or  on  litters,  and  leave  them 
there,  together  with  spectacles,  bandages,  splints, 
pill-boxes,  cigars,  liquor, — an  astonishing  array  of 
proofs  of  release  from  illness  and  bad  habits  through 

130 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

saintly  intercession.  Water  from  the  spring  that 
bubbles  forth  beside  the  church  is  carried  away  in 
bottles  by  the  multitude,  and  is  used  in  the  curing 
of  all  diseases. 

Our  saint  was  the  mother  of  the  Virgin  Mary, 
and,  under  authority  of  the  Pope,  in  1876  became 
patroness  of  Canada.  On  her  death,  in  Jerusalem, 
she  was  placed  in  the  family  vault,  whence,  in  Mar- 
cus Aurelius's  day,  her  coffin  was  torn  by  the  in- 
fidels, who  were  trying  to  efface  all  sacred  relics 
and  monuments  from  the  Holy  Land.  One  coffin, 
which  they  pitched  upon  the  sands,  they  could 
neither  burn  nor  break  open.  It  was  that  of  Sainte 
Anne.  Enraged  at  the  futility  of  their  assaults,  they 
dragged  it  to  the  Mediterranean  and  threw  it  into 
the  water.  It  refused  to  sink,  and  swam  to  the  town 
of  Apt,  in  Provence,  where  it  lay  buried  in  the 
sand  until  a  huge  fish  uncovered  it,  in  the  sight  of 
a  party  of  fishermen.  They  took  it  up,  and  discov- 
ered it  to  be  the  coffin  of  Sainte  Anne,  though  they 
could  not  open  it,  and  their  bishop  walled  it  up  in 
a  crypt,  where  it  stayed  for  seven  hundred  years, 
with  a  lamp  burning  before  it.  Next  the  Emperor 
Charlemagne  opened  the  crypt,  in  obedience  to  a 
vision  granted  to  a  deaf  and  dumb  boy,  and  re- 
moved the  coffin.  After  some  other  centuries  the 
bones  were  sent  to  Canada,  and  they  are  now  ex- 
hibited at  the  shrine  of  Beaupre. 

It  was  Sainte  Anne  who  saved  the  wife  of  Cadieux, 
or  Cayeux,  though  some  believe  that  it  could  have 

131 


Myths  and  Legends 

been  only  the  Virgin  herself.  Cadieux  was  a 
French  immigrant  of  education,  a  soldier  and  ad- 
venturer, who  had  either  a  disappointing  love-af- 
fair or  had  fallen  out  of  favor  at  court.  He  had  a 
native  thrift,  withal,  wrote  pleasant  verse  and  music, 
was  popular  with  all  sorts  in  the  New  World,  and 
traded  with  the  Indians,  to  his  own  advantage, 
when  he  went  to  live  beside  Calumet  Falls,  near  the 
present  village  of  Bryson.  The  Ottawas  thought 
so  much  of  him  that  they  gave  him  one  of  their 
girls  to  wife.  While  these  two  were  packing  furs 
into  their  canoe  for  a  semi-annual  shipment  to 
Montreal,  rumors  came  to  them  of  an  approach  of 
the  hostile  Iroquois,  in  war-paint.  Hastily  finish- 
ing the  loading  of  the  boat,  Cadieux  committed  it, 
with  his  wife  and  two  others,  to  the  torrent.  The 
oarsmen  were  skilled,  but  in  the  rapid  and  danger- 
ous stream  their  address  would  have  gone  for  naught 
had  not  the  wife  prayed  to  Sainte  Anne  for  guid- 
ance. Instantly  a  figure,  shining,  silvery,  misty, 
appeared  before  the  prow,  as  if  it  were  shaped 
from  the  spray,  and,  closely  following,  as  it  led 
this  way  and  that,  past  shoals  and  rocks  and  eddies, 
the  rowers  brought  the  canoe  to  quiet  water.  Nor 
did  the  saint  desert  them  then,  but  shone  before 
them  all  the  way  to  Montreal,  where  they  went 
thankfully  ashore,  sold  their  furs  at  a  good  figure, 
and  did  not  forget  the  Church  when  they  received 
their  money. 

But  how   fared   it  with  Cadieux   all  this  time  ? 
132 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

Heavily.  Fearful  lest  the  canoe  should  be  seen  and 
fired  on,  he  and  an  Indian  friend  remained  to  drive 
back  the  invading  Iroquois.  He  likewise  should 
have  invoked  a  saint,  but  he  was  too  busy  and  eager 
to  remember  his  duty,  so  his  patron  was  forgot- 
ten. When  the  marauders  appeared,  the  two  fight- 
ers dodged  from  tree  to  tree,  shooting  from  differ- 
ent points  and  giving  to  the  enemy  an  impression 
that  a  considerable  force  was  standing  against  them. 
Every  shot  brought  down  a  man  ;  but  Cadieux's 
Indian  friend  was  slain  and  his  wigwam  was  burned 
before  the  band  retreated.  Knowing  that  it  was 
likely  to  return,  the  white  man  fled  into  the  forest, 
and  died  there  of  hunger,  exhaustion,  and  "  the 
madness  of  the  woods."  His  last  energies  were 
given  to  writing  "  The  Lament  of  Cadieux"  on  a 
large  sheet  of  birch  bark  that  was  clasped  to  his 
breast  when  the  rescue-party  found  him.  It  is  a 
sad  song  that  is  often  heard  on  the  river,  where  it 
is  sung  by  the  "  shanty-men."  His  memorial  cross 
has  been  cut  away  by  lumbermen  for  sacred  relics, 
but  the  spoilers  have  tried  to  make  good  the  loss 
by  carving  votive  crosses  on  the  neighboring  trees. 
Cadieux's  "  Lament"  is  a  poem  of  some  length, 
beginning  in  this  fashion  : 

Petit  rocher  de  la  haute  montagne, 
Je  viens  finir  ici  cette  campagne. 
Ah  !   doux  echos,  entendez  mes  soupirs  $ 
En  languissant,  je  vais  bientot  mourir. 


133 


Myths  and  Legends 

TADOUSAC    BELL   AT    MIDNIGHT 

TADOUSAC,  which  stands  where  the  black 
Saguenay  rolls  from  its  lonely  canon  into 
the  sea-like  breadth  of  the  St.  Lawrence,  was  one 
of  the  early  trading  and  missionary  stations  of  the 
French,  for  this  bleak  region  was  rumored  to  be  rich 
in  mineral  treasure.  Cartier  landed  here  in  1535, 
and  told  this  thumper  after  reaching  home  :  "  In 
ascending  the  Saguenay  you  reach  a  country  where 
there  are  men  dressed  like  us,  who  live  in  cities,  and 
have  much  gold,  rubies,  and  copper."  He  wanted 
to  be  governor,  you  see.  The  first  stone  building  in 
America  was  put  up  here,  and  immediate  measures 
were  taken  to  get  the  gold  and  rubies  away  from 
the  Indians.  Poor  creatures  !  They  had  no  use 
for  gold  so  long  as  they  could  have  iron,  and  as  to 
a  ruby,  they  never  saw  one.  They  did  not  even 
have  bones  to  gnaw  sometimes,  for  as  you  pass 
along  the  Saguenay  they  show  the  Descente  des 
Femmes,  down  which  the  squaws  came  one  winter 
and  made  their  way  over  the  ice  to  a  friendly  set- 
tlement, where  they  got  food  and  carried  it  to  the 
bucks  who  were  starving  at  home  because  they 
were  too  dignified  to  work.  These  Indians  were 
early  reformed,  and  they  loved  their  helpers  and 
teachers,  and  so  long  as  the  body  of  Father  La 
Brosse  lay  in  the  little  church  at  Tadousac  the 
faithful  red  men,  the  Montagnais,  who  had  so  often 
listened  to  his  preaching,  never  passed  up  or  down 

134 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

the  Saguenay  without  stopping  here  to  pray.  They 
would  fall  to  the  floor  and  talk  to  the  dead  man 
through  a  little  hole  in  his  tomb,  and  they  fancied 
whispered  answers  of  advice  or  comfort.  This 
custom  ceased  with  the  removal  of  the  remains  to 
Chicoutimi. 

Pere  La  Brosse,  last  of  the  Jesuits  at  this  settle- 
ment, was  taller  than  common,  strong  in  spite  of 
his  seventy  years,  and,  with  his  white  hair  falling 
over  his  shoulders,  was  a  man  of  distinguished 
aspect.  The  tale  of  his  death  is  still  told  among 
his  people,  though  it  occurred  more  than  a  century 
ago.  He  had  been  busy  among  his  converts  all 
day,  and  as  night  fell  he  went  to  the  trading-post 
and  passed  some  hours  in  pleasant  talk  with  its  offi- 
cers. As  he  arose  to  leave  he  looked  with  a  sad 
smile  over  the  little  company,  and  said,  "  Good- 
by— forever.  This  is  the  last  of  the  world  for 
me.  At  midnight  I  shall  be  no  more.  The  bell 
on  the  church  will  tell  you  so.  Come  to  me,  if 
you  will,  but  please  not  to  touch  my  body.  I  desire 
Messire  Compain  to  bury  me.  You  will  find  him 
waiting  at  the  Isle  aux  Coudres.  It  will  storm, 
but  do  not  fear.  When  you  go  for  him  your  boat 
shall  be  unharmed.     Farewell,  and  benedicite." 

He  was  gone.  The  men  stared  at  one  another 
in  amazement.  Some  laughed  nervously  and  said 
that  the  priest  was  joking.  One  of  them  drew  out 
his  watch  and  looked.  The  time  wore  on.  Their 
talk  flagged,  a  silence  fell,  and  every  face  grew  anx- 

135 


Myths  and  Legends 

ious.  The  watch  marked  twelve.  Boom  !  boom  ! 
went  the  bell — slowly, — rung  by  no  human  hand, 
— tolling  for  a  passing  soul.  All  started  violently, 
and  every  face  was  white.  Then,  in  a  kind  of 
panic,  they  hurried  to  the  church.  Father  La 
Brosse  lay  before  the  altar,  his  hands  clasped  in 
prayer,  yet  held  before  his  face,  as  if  he  had  been 
dazzled  by  a  great  light.  He  was  dead.  They 
watched  in  the  gloomy  place  until  dawn,  when  four 
hardy  men  offered  to  fetch  Compain.  A  storm  had 
sprung  up,  the  ice  was  crashing  and  piling,  and  it 
was  an  ugly  sea  they  had  to  face,  but  a  lane  of 
smooth  water  opened  along  its  frothing  surface  and 
they  reached  the  Isle  aux  Coudres,  sixty  miles 
away,  in  safety,  marvelling.  Messire  Compain  was 
awaiting  them  on  the  rocks,  breviary  in  hand.  He 
knew,  he  said,  why  they  had  come,  for  the  bell  of 
his  church,  also,  had  struck  at  the  death  hour,  and 
a  whisper  in  the  air  had  told  him  what  had  befallen. 
So  he  went  with  them  to  Tadousac  and  did  his  office. 
And  they  learned  afterward  that  the  bell  of  every 
mission  where  Pere  La  Brosse  had  served  during 
his  busy  life  had  tolled,  untouched,  that  night. 


136 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

THE   BELL  OF  CAUGHNAWAGA 

STUDENTS  of  our  history  are  familiar  with 
the  incidents  of  the  raid  on  Deerfield,  Mas- 
sachusetts, on  a  winter  night  in  1704,  wherein 
forty-seven  of  the  Puritans  were  killed,  very  few 
got  away,  and  one  hundred  and  twelve  were  cap- 
tured, to  be  transported  to  Canada.  Only  one 
house  escaped  burning  and  pillage,  and  that  was 
defended  by  seven  Englishmen,  whose  wives  cast 
bullets  while  the  men  picked  off  the  French  and 
Indians  through  the  windows  and  loop-holes.  In 
the  march  to  Canada  several  of  the  captives,  who 
showed  signs  of  illness  and  weakness,  were  promptly 
slaughtered.  For  the  brutality  exhibited  in  this 
"  war"  the  French  leader,  Major  de  Rouville,  has 
been  greatly  blamed,  but  it  is  likely  that  he  was 
unable  to  control  his  savage  allies  after  they  had 
tasted  blood.  Rev.  John  Williams,  pastor  of  the 
Puritan  flock,  lost  his  wife  and  two  of  his  children 
by  murder  on  the  long  walk,  yet  when  his  freedom, 
his  children,  and  a  pension  were  offered  to  him  if 
he  would  join  the  Roman  Church,  he  refused.  All 
the  captives  were  obliged  to  attend  mass,  however, 
and  twenty-eight  of  the  Puritans  chose  conversion 
in  preference  to  continued  suffering,  and,  as  the 
chronicler  quaintly  puts  it,  this  "  kindred  blood 
now  rattles  bad  French  in  Canada,  or  sputters  In- 
dian in  the  North  and  Northwest."  The  French 
treated  their  prisoners  with  kindness,  allowing  sixty 

137 


Myths  and  Legends 

of  them  to  return  on  payment  of  ransom.  The 
little  daughter  of  Mr.  Williams  was  kept  by  the 
Indians  and  adopted  into  their  tribe.  When  de 
Rouville  returned,  five  years  later,  to  repeat  the 
raid  on  Deerfield,  he  was  soundly  beaten. 

But  this  old  story  is  only  preface  to  another,  less 
well  known.  Father  Nicholas,  of  Caughnawaga, 
had  secured  from  his  barbarian  congregation  enough 
skins  of  beaver,  foxes,  otters,  and  the  like  to  send 
to  France  and  with  them  buy  a  bell  for  his  church. 
The  ship  that  brought  it  was  captured  by  the  Eng- 
lish in  1703,  and  the  bell,  after  being  landed  in 
Salem,  was  sent  to  Deerfield  meeting-house,  where 
it  solemnly  tolled  to  sermons  and  to  prayers,  gave 
note  of  death,  and  sounded  alarms  when  fire  broke 
out  or  hostiles  threatened.  The  "  popish"  legend 
on  its  side  was  chopped  and  filed  away.  To  have 
their  bell  thus  fall  into  the  hands  of  enemies  of 
their  Church  was  more  than  the  Indians  could  en- 
dure, and  it  was  the  thought  of  this  sacrilege  rather 
than  race  hatred  which  lent  fury  to  the  arms  that 
wielded  the  knife  and  axe.  Father  Nicholas  ac- 
companied the  raiders  and  secured  his  treasure  after 
Deerfield  had  been  laid  in  ashes.  It  was  carried  as 
far  as  Lake  Champlain  and  buried.  Then,  when 
spring  had  released  the  land,  a  company  of  young 
communicants  dug  it  up  and  carried  it  to  its  destina- 
tion, the  Saut  St.  Louis  Church  of  Caughnawaga,  op- 
posite Montreal.  As  they  emerged  from  the  wood 
bearing  this  burden  on  a  pole,  its  clapper  pounding 

138 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

joyously,  the  people  in  the  village,  who  had  never 
heard  such  a  sound  before,  sprang  up,  crossed 
themselves,  and  cried,  in  solemn  exultation,  "  It  is 
the  bell !"  They  went  forth  in  glad  procession, 
wreathed  it  in  flowers,  and  took  it  to  the  church, 
where  for  long  years  it  called  the  faithful  Indians 
to  mass  and  vespers. 

THE  MASSACRE  AT  BIC 

FEW  parts  of  the  inhabited  north  country  have 
escaped  blood-baptism.  Causes  that  in  our 
day  would  lead  to  nothing  more  than  a  rival  politi- 
cal convention,  or  a  few  editorial  shrieks,  or  the 
consumption  of  Bowery  fire-water  and  some  result- 
ing black  eyes,  were  in  the  old  days  reasons  for 
murder.  No  man  knew  when  he  was  safe,  and 
usually  he  wasn't.  If  a  brave  from  South  Molunkus 
looked  cross-eyed  at  the  warrior  from  Memphre- 
magog  when  he  met  him  in  the  woods,  the  insult 
or  the  menace  was  to  be  atoned  for  only  by  the 
consumption  of  South  Molunkus  by  fire,  the  scalp- 
ing of  all  adults  found  there,  and  the  kidnapping  of 
the  children.  The  Iroquois  going  down  the  St. 
Lawrence  on  one  of  these  errands  of  objection  to  the 
Souriquois  saw  ahead  of  them  on  one  of  the  islands 
of  Bic,  opposite  the  debouch  of  the  Saguenay,  a 
number  of  canoes  and  moving  figures.  Recogniz- 
ing the  people  as  their  enemies,  they  plied  their 
paddles  with  energy,  to  fall  upon  them  before  they 
could  escape.     It  was  a  hard  fate  for  the  Souri- 

139 


Myths  and  Legends 

quois,  for  they  were  mostly  women  and  babes,  in- 
capable of  defence,  and  they  had  not  canoes  enough 
for  even  an  attempt  at  flight :  so  they  huddled  into 
a  cave  and  prepared  to  slay  the  first  who  should 
enter.  The  Iroquois  landed,  traced  the  Souriquois 
to  the  cavern,  were  greeted  with  stones  and  clubs, 
and,  unable  to  guess  how  many  might  be  concealed 
there,  they  prudently  resolved  to  take  no  chances. 
Gathering  drift-wood,  they  piled  it  before  the  cave, 
built  a  fire,  and  heaped  on  grass,  weeds,  and  leaves 
that  made  a  dense  smoke,  which  blew  into  the  cave 
and  suffocated  all  within.  But  this  mean  victory 
was  dearly  won,  for,  on  sighting  the  war-party  up 
the  river,  five  Souriquois  had  gone  to  their  villages 
on  the  St.  John  for  help,  and,  defying  tire,  thirst, 
and  hunger,  a  large  band  of  men  hurried  back  with 
them  to  the  St.  Lawrence.  It  was  too  late,  of 
course,  to  rescue  their  sisters,  daughters,  and  chil- 
dren at  Bic,  but  with  an  Indian  all  times  are  ripe 
for  revenge.  The  murderers,  having  started  on  the 
return  march  with  a  false  belief  in  security,  relaxed 
their  guard,  and  during  an  absence  on  the  hunt  the 
canoes  they  had  hidden  among  the  bushes  on  shore 
were  seized,  together  with  their  load  of  provision. 
Thus  set  afoot,  hundreds  of  miles  from  their  homes, 
they  were  at  the  mercy  of  their  pursuers.  The 
Souriquois  hung  on  their  march,  and  ere  many  days 
had  harried  them  all  to  death.  Human  bones  have 
been  found  on  the  Islet  au  Massacre,  in  the  Bic 
group. 

140 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

THE  DOOM  OF  MAMELONS 

ALONG  the  lower  Saguenay  are  strange,  bare, 
rounded  rocks,  the  ruined  foundations  of 
old  mountains  long  since  shaken  down  by  earth- 
quake and  ploughed  away  by  glaciers,  and  heaps  of 
sand,  the  erosion  of  other  hills.  It  is  from  their 
name  that  the  whole  district  is  known  as  Mamelons, 
meaning  the  place  of  great  mounds.  For  a  cen- 
tury and  more  it  had  been  prophesied  among  the 
Leni  Lenape  that  if  any  princess  of  their  tribe 
should  wed  a  white  man  war  and  defeat  would  fol- 
low, and  the  tribe  would  reach  its  end  at  Mame- 
lons. They  had  come  to  believe  that  where  the 
European  landed  the  red  race  would  look  its  last  on 
the  sun.  For  a  thousand  years  war  was  waged 
across  these  wastes  between  the  Montagnais,  or 
Mountaineers,  and  the  Eskimos  of  the  frozen  north- 
land.  The  Montagnais  were  helped  by  the  Nas- 
quapees,  a  small,  fine-featured  people,  keen  of 
sight  and  smell,  disbelievers  in  the  powers  of 
mecicine-men,  yet  a  folk  who  called  up  the  dead, 
for  they  were  mediums  and  translated  the  messages 
of  spirits.  They  claimed  to  have  come  long  before 
out  of  the  East, — Basques,  or  Iberians.  In  the  last 
great  fight  between  the  red  and  the  yellow  men  at 
Mamelons  there  had  been  omens :  a  raven  had 
been  on  the  moon  (an  eclipse),  and  the  sun  had 
risen  red.  Scorching  heat  lay  on  the  sand,  so  that 
in   the   battle   many   tried   to   cool   themselves   by 

141 


Myths  and  Legends 

drawing  the  dead  upon  them,  for  the  sake  of  their 
shadows.  Knowing  it  was  to  be  the  last  of  many 
great  battles,  the  dead  hurried  to  the  help  of  their 
friends,  and  for  hours  cries  and  tramplings  sounded, 
and  strange  buffetings  were  felt  from  viewless  hands. 
Hundreds  of  feet  below,  the  Saguenay  foamed  red, 
and  still  the  heat  increased  and  the  copper  sun 
shone  fainter.  In  the  height  of  battle  the  earth  be- 
gan to  rock,  ashes  sifted  out  of  the  sky,  or,  gather- 
ing moisture  from  the  sultry  air,  came  down  as  mud. 
Darkness  fell ;  then,  with  a  hollow  roar  and  crash, 
a  long-pent  volcano  in  the  north  burst  into  erup- 
tion, and  every  man  who  had  stood  on  the  heaving 
earth  was  flung  down  into  his  own  or  his  enemy's 
blood.  In  the  dawn  it  was  seen  that  only  two  on 
the  battle-field  were  alive,  and  they  the  chiefs  of 
either  party.  Sadly  they  made  the  sign  of  peace, 
and  the  Eskimo  set  his  face  northward,  nor  did  he 
and  his  tribesmen  ever  return  to  vex  the  Laurentian 
people. 

The  Leni  Lenape  chief  had  a  daughter  who  at  a 
later  time  gave  herself  to  a  white  lover  at  the  old 
chief's  home  near  Cape  Eternity.  When  they 
left  it  to  go  down  the  Saguenay  they  were  nearly 
caught  in  the  fire  that  raged  from  Lake  St.  John  to 
Chicoutimi  and  that  spread  over  one  hundred  and 
fifty  miles  of  forest  in  seven  hours,  but  they  plunged 
into  the  dark  flood,  gained  their  boat,  and  so  in 
time  reached  the  French  priest  at  Mamelons,  the 
place  of  doom.     The  wedding  was  to  be  at  once. 

142 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

They  approached  the  altar  gravely,  he  strong,  con- 
fident, she  pale  and  oppressed.  When  she  should 
have  spoken  the  words  that  would  bind  her  to  the 
husband,  as  he  pressed  the  ring  on  her  finger,  the 
girl  looked  strangely  into  the  east.  Her  pallor 
intensified.  She  had  forgotten  where  she  stood. 
For  she  saw  the  millions  of  the  old  Iberian  race 
marching  through  time,  carrying  their  kings  and 
queens  enthroned  and  lifting  up  their  gods.  And 
of  all  the  hosts  she  was  the  sole  survivor  in  this 
western  world.  The  land  henceforth  belonged  to 
the  white  people.  The  chapel  bell  tolled.  It 
tolled  the  passing  of  a  soul.  It  told  the  passing  of 
a  race. 

THE  REVENGE  OF  HUDSON 

AFTER  the  mutiny  that  resulted  in  the  de- 
parture of  the  Discoverie  from  Hudson 
Bay,  leaving  her  commander,  Henry  Hudson,  his 
son  of  the  same  name,  and  two  or  three  followers 
afloat  on  its  lonely  waters,  it  was  supposed  that  all 
the  occupants  of  the  frail  and  unprovisioned  boat 
perished  during  the  winter, — drowned,  perhaps  ; 
crushed  in  the  ice ;  starved ;  killed  by  wolves, 
bears,  or  savages.  Tradition,  however,  records 
the  finding  of  a  white-faced  lad  with  yellow  hair 
on  the  great  bay's  eastern  beach.  Whether  he  had 
been  wrecked  there  or  had  wandered  from  some 
shelter,  seeking  food,  the  Indians  who  found  him 

'43 


Myths  and  Legends 

lying  on  the  pebbles  could  not  tell.  On  his  breast 
were  tattooed  the  letters  "  H.  H."  in  red  ink. 
The  men  presently  took  him  to  their  lodge  and 
revived  him,  for  the  boy  was  exhausted  and  had 
been  poorly  fed,  not  ill,  and  it  was  not  long  be- 
fore he  became  as  one  among  the  tribe, — nay,  one 
above  the  tribe,  for  among  the  beliefs  of  the  peo- 
ple was  that  of  a  white  Messiah  with  yellow  hair 
who  should  come  to  them  in  a  strange  boat  and 
aid  them  in  their  arts  and  lead  them  in  their  bat- 
tles. And  they  soon  came  to  know  him  as  "  the 
white  god,"  for  he  was  wise  in  council,  just  and 
demanding  justice,  prudent,  and  his  teaching  and 
example  made  them  happier  and  better.  He  grew 
to  a  great  size,  was  quick  in  the  hunt,  invincible  in 
fight,  and  he  married  the  daughter  of  a  chief.  He 
differed  from  the  Mistassini,  among  whom  he  thus 
became  a  leader,  in  that  he  was  not  brutal  or  re- 
vengeful. After  a  battle,  so  that  the  cause  had  been 
won,  he  ministered  to  the  enemy,  and  sent  them  to 
their  homes  with  food,  to  be  his  friends. 

In  one  of  the  hunts  that  took  the  men  to  the  far 
shores  of  Ungava  Bay,  for  seal,  the  people  reached 
the  water  on  a  day  of  storm.  Great  was  the 
wonder  at  the  spectacle  of  a  ship  with  broken 
rudder  and  torn  sails  that  was  driving  toward  the 
land.  A  monster  wave  lifted  her  and  flung  her 
with  a  crash  on  the  beach.  As  the  wave  receded 
a  figure  scrambled  along  the  bowsprit,  leaped  waist- 
deep  into   the    frothing  sea,  and    half  swam,    half 

144 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

waded,  to  dry  ground.  He  was  the  sole  survivor. 
A  giant  he  was  in  size,  and  he  bore  a  battle-axe. 
As  he  saw  the  red  hunters  gathering  curiously  about 
him  he  frowned  and  raised  the  weapon,  but  with 
accord  they  dropped  the  points  of  their  seal-spears, 
to  show  that  he  was  in  no  danger  from  them.  For 
even  among  enemies,  the  man  who  is  saved  by  an 
act  of  Providence  must  be  spared,  lest  by  persisting 
in  his  harm  the  anger  of  the  Great  Spirit  be 
aroused.  To  this  sacredness  of  miraculous  escape 
were  due  the  safety  of  Washington  at  Braddock's 
defeat,  and  that  of  Major  Rogers  after  his  apparent 
leap  down  Rogers's  Slide.  The  "  white  god"  ad- 
vanced with  a  smile  and  open  hand  to  meet  the 
shipwrecked  one,  but  as  he  came  before  him  he 
stopped  and  searched  his  face,  his  own  countenance 
turning  hard  and  gray  and  his  eyes  kindling  fiercely 
as  he  looked.  Then  he  tore  aside  his  fur  jacket 
and  showed  the  letters  "  H.  H."  burning  on  his 
breast.  The  stranger  started  back  in  fear,  his  legs 
shook  under  him,  his  axe  hung  in  a  nerveless  hand. 
Then  he  fell  on  his  knees  and  begged  for  mercy  in  a 
tongue  that  the  Indians  did  not  comprehend.  The 
"  white  god"  spoke  never  a  word,  but  he  seized  his 
own  hatchet  from  his  belt,  and  with  all  his  great 
might  he  struck  the  stranger  on  the  head,  cleaving 
him  to  the  chin.  Then,  turning  to  his  people,  he 
said,  "  He  was  my  father's  murderer.  Fling  his 
body  into  the  sea,  and  may  he  find  hell  there." 


145 


Myths  and  Legends 

KENEN'S   SACRIFICE 

BOIS  BLANC,  on  the  Canadian  side  of  Detroit 
River,  was  so  named  for  the  white  wood 
that  grew  there,  and  that  was  stripped  away  under 
a  supposed  military  exigency  in  1837.  This  was 
the  place  in  which  Tecumseh  waited  till  he  had 
learned  the  issue  of  the  battle  on  Lake  Erie,  and 
when  General  Proctor  would  neither  stay  to  defend 
himself  against  the  Americans  nor  allow  the  braver 
Tecumseh  to  occupy  the  fortifications  in  his  stead, 
he  scornfully  charged  upon  his  red-coat  ally  that  he 
was  "  a  fat  dog  sneaking  off  with  his  tail  between 
his  legs,  after  making  a  show  of  courage."  The 
military  importance  of  the  river  was  recognized 
early,  and  for  a  long  time  it  was  doubtful  if  the 
garrison  at  Fort  Pontchartrain  would  be  kept  at  the 
present  site  of  Detroit  or  moved  across  to  new 
works  at  Bois  Blanc.  Had  this  removal  occurred, 
Detroit  might  at  this  day  have  been  a  village  and 
Bois  Blanc  a  city.  A  French  mission  for  the 
Hurons  was  established  here,  but  after  the  English 
had  resolved  to  take  the  land  their  agents  turned 
these  Indians  against  their  teachers,  and  nearly  pre- 
cipitated a  massacre  of  the  French  troops. 

White  Deer  was  the  daughter  of  one  of  these 
Hurons  who  had  died  on  a  mission  of  policy  to 
Montreal,  while  her  mother,  a  white  woman,  had 
been  buried  not  long  before.  Fathered  and  moth- 
ered by  the  whole  village,  the  girl  grew  up  in  the 

146 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

affection  of  all.  She  had  the  beauty  that  is  often 
the  gift  of  half-breeds,  and  many  of  the  young 
braves,  and  some  of  the  old  ones,  looked  on  her 
with  longing.  After  their  fashion  they  threw  littla 
sticks  in  her  path  when  they  saw  her  coming,  for 
when  a  maid  was  not  averse  to  the  attentions  of  a 
gallant  she  would  pick  up  the  stick  he  had  thrown. 
White  Deer  stooped  to  none  of  them,  although  she 
lingered  near  those  of  Kenen,  a  tall,  strong  war- 
rior, young  and  handsome,  and  he  was  thereon 
mightily  encouraged,  so  that  he  followed  the  girl 
about  and  gathered  berries  for  her,  and  in  other 
ways  showed  that  he  would  like  to  wed  her  and 
have  her  wait  on  him.  The  gossips  had  it  all 
fixed,  even  to  the  day  of  the  wedding,  when  Kenen 
came  into  camp  one  morning  with  a  white  man 
on  his  back.  He  had  accidentally  wounded  the 
stranger  while  hunting,  and  was  in  anxiety  lest 
he  should  die,  and  the  French  at  the  fort,  when 
they  heard  of  the  shooting,  avenge  it  on  the  in- 
nocent. 

White  Deer  took  her  turn  at  nursing  the  injured 
one  to  health,  and,  as  he  was  a  man  of  well-stored 
mind  and  soft  manner,  the  white  blood  in  her  veins 
declared  itself,  and  she  looked  into  his  eyes  as  she 
had  never  looked  into  Kenen's,  and  saw  her  happi- 
ness there.  More  than  suspicious  of  loss  in  her 
affections,  the  Indian  dogged  them  sullenly  from 
place  to  place,  and  at  last  came  upon  the  young 
man   kneeling   at  her  feet  and  kissing  her  hands. 

147 


Myths  and  Legends 

Their  troth  was  plighted.  Kenen  launched  on  the 
man  a  scathing  rebuke  for  his  ingratitude,  and 
ordered  him  to  seek  his  own  people  at  once  ;  then 
he  turned  on  the  girl  and  poised  his  knife  at  her 
breast.  She  looked  up  at  him.  "  No,  no,"  he 
cried,  and  flung  the  blade  into  the  river.  "  Kenen 
is  like  the  tempest  in  his  strength,  but  the  light- 
ning of  his  anger  cannot  strike  the  White  Deer." 

Not  long  after  this  a  war  broke  out  between  the 
Iroquois  and  the  French,  and  among  the  captives 
taken  by  the  Indians  was  the  white  man  whom 
Kenen  had  shot  and  the  girl  had  saved.  He  was 
condemned  to  the  death  by  fire,  and  had  been  tied 
to  the  stake,  when  a  tall  man  dashed  through  the 
shrubbery  and  stood  beside  the  captive. 

"  Hold !"  he  cried.  "  You  have  heard  of  Kenen, 
the  Huron,  for  he  has  the  scalp-locks  of  your  people 
at  his  belt.  Many  an  Iroquois  has  felt  the  bite  of 
his  axe  upon  his  head.  Kenen  could  take  the  life 
of  more  than  one  of  you  even  now,  and  he  will  do 
so  unless  you  heed  his  words,  for  he  comes  before 
you  as  a  willing  prisoner  to  take  the  place  of  this 
captive.  Let  him  go  to  his  people.  Kenen  is  a 
prize  more  worthy  of  you.  Go,  white  man,  com- 
fort the  White  Deer,  who  waits  and  weeps  for 
you."  And,  slashing  the  cords  at  his  feet  and 
wrists,  he  set  the  captive  free.  "  Go,  while  your 
path  is  clear.  My  canoe  is  there."  With  vague 
words  of  thanks  the  rescued  one  staggered  away. 
Some  would  have  followed,  but  Kenen  stood  against 

148 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

them  like  an  oak,  and  to  have  chased  the  pale-face 
would  have  cost  at  least  one  life,  so  they  waited. 
When  the  plash  of  the  white  man's  paddle  sounded 
up  from  the  river,  Kenen  flung  down  his  axe, 
walked  to  the  stake,  and  folded  his  arms.  And  as  the 
white  man  sped  away  toward  his  bride  a  great  pain 
filled  his  heart,  for  he  saw  the  blaze  of  fagots  among 
the  trees  and  saw  the  forms  of  dancing  devils  cir- 
cling the  fire. 


THE    CALLING    OF    ZOE   DE    MERSAC 

A  SPECTRAL  hunt,  like  the  wild  chase  in  the 
Black  Forest  by  Wotan  and  Frau  Holle, 
startles  the  people  on  the  Canadian  shore  of  the 
Detroit.  At  certain  intervals  a  dog  trots  north- 
ward over  the  water,  a  black  dog  with  drooping 
ears.  Again,  it  is  a  phantom  boat,  rowed  by  twelve 
fierce  and  silent  men,  also  going  north.  Once  in 
seven  years  a  gaunt  horseman  rides  north,  followed 
by  dogs,  along  the  western  sky,  at  sunset,  and  the 
people  shudder,  for  they  know  that  among  those 
who  see  the  spectre  one  must  be  in  his  grave  within 
a  month.  So  at  least  it  proved  when  Sebastian 
Lacelle  hunted  near  his  home  at  Askin  Pointe.  He 
was  a  sportsman  by  instinct,  "  born  with  a  gun  in 
his  hand,"  they  said,  and  on  one  of  his  forays  he 
had  wounded  a  deer  and  followed  it  through  the 
wood  at  top  speed,  to  get  another  and  a  final  shot. 
Soon  he  came  to  a  clearing,  and  there  was  his 
149 


Myths  and  Legends 

deer,  trembling  and  looking  around  at  him  with 
innocent,  frightened  eyes.  He  had  slaughtered 
hundreds  of  animals  for  sport.  He  had  bent  their 
heads  upon  their  shoulders  and  cut  their  throats 
while  they  looked  into  his  face,  inquiring,  beseech- 
ing, astonished.  He  had  pounced  on  them  in  their 
death-throes  and  clubbed  and  stabbed  them.  Why 
did  he  not  do  so  now  ?  Because  a  pretty  girl  knelt 
before  the  door  of  a  cabin,  and  the  deer — it  was 
her  pet — lay  on  the  ground,  bleeding,  panting.  She 
was  lamenting  and  caressing  the  pretty  creature, 
while  she  tenderly  dressed  the  injury.  Lacelle  felt 
a  strange  tug  and  softening  at  his  heart.  He  doffed 
his  hat  and  offered  some  clumsy  explanation  with 
a  hope  that,  as  he  had  supposed  the  animal  a  wild 
one,  he  might  be  forgiven.  As  she  lived  in  a  time 
when  a  request  for  mercy  for  an  animal  would 
have  been  received  with  jeers  and  laughter,  it  was 
natural  that  Zoe  de  Mersac  should  grant  the  par- 
don with  at  least  a  pretended  willingness,  and,  as 
both  had  lived  a  half-wild  life,  they  soon  found 
plenty  of  matter  for  easy  talk.  The  hunter  went 
to  the  woods  again  next  day,  and  yet  again.  Their 
talks  were  longer  and  their  voices  lower  at  each  such 
meeting.      Yes,  they  loved  and  were  happy. 

On  the  day  before  the  wedding,  when  the  people 
were  discussing  at  their  doors  the  way  the  chasse 
galerie  had  swept  by  on  the  night  before,  the  girl 
was  seized  with  trembling,  and  her  heart  shook. 
She  told  her  fears  to  her  lover.     Surely,  something 

150 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

was  impending.  His  gun  was  flung  on  his  shoulder. 
He  laughed  at  her.  To-morrow  all  would  be  well. 
He  was  off  for  one  more  hunt,  to  celebrate  his  last 
day  as  a  bachelor.  Yes,  he  would  be  careful.  He 
was  always  careful.  See,  the  ducks  were  plenty  on 
the  river.  Wouldn't  a  nice  plump  one  look  well 
at  the  wedding  dinner?  She  besought  him  with 
tears  to  stay.  He  kissed  her,  and  laughed  again, 
"  Dead  or  alive,  I'll  be  back  in  the  morning." 

At  daybreak  Zoe  went  to  the  shore,  unable  to 
rest,  yet  cheered  by  the  dewy  freshness  of  the 
landscape,  the  softness  of  the  sunshine,  the  chorus 
of  birds,  and,  sitting  on  a  boulder, — one  of  those 
great  rocks  that  Hiawatha  had  hurled  at  his  father 
in  the  long  fight, — she  waited  long;  but  Sebastian 
did  not  come.  Once,  indeed,  it  seemed  as  if  she 
heard  a  sigh,  and  a  cold  touch  fell  upon  her  bosom, 
so  that  a  chill  went  through  her,  and  she  fled, 
frightened,  to  the  house.  All  day  long  she  waited 
in  her  bridal  dress,  despairing,  her  anxious  parents 
and  puzzled  guests  about  her  ;  but  he  did  not  come. 
At  the  fall  of  the  dark  she  went  out  to  the  shore 
again,  alone.  It  had  grown  windy  and  threatening. 
Ah,  God !  how  the  spectre  hunt  went  by  that 
night,  with  cries  and  howls  and  whistling !  The 
north  must  have  been  crowded  with  spirits.  A 
boat-like  cloud  whirled  past.  As  it  went  into  the 
north  she  saw  the  leap  and  quiver  of  the  aurora 
borealis, — the  flames  that  pour  from  the  end  of  the 
earth,  for  there  the  old  world-fire  has  never  been 

151 


Myths  and  Legends 

put  out.  And  again  the  wind  shaped  itself  into 
words,  like  his  voice  :  "  I  will  come  for  you  in  a 
year  and  a  day."  She  went  back  to  her  home. 
No  tears  were  in  her  eyes.  The  cold  spot  on  her 
bosom  would  not  be  warm.  Even  her  heart  seemed 
colder. 

In  a  year  and  a  day  the  dawn  broke  fresh,  and 
Zoe  asked  to  be  dressed  and  taken  to  the  river  in  a 
chair, — it  was  so  long  since  she  had  been  out  in 
the  sunlight.  Painfully,  carefully  they  clothed  her 
wasted  form.  Her  face  was  white,  save  for  one 
red  spot  on  the  cheek,  but  she  smiled  as  they  lifted 
her  across  the  threshold,  and  she  looked  toward 
the  cloudless  sky  in  rapture.  For  some  time  she 
sat  there  with  her  parents,  bright  and  happy,  as  it 
seemed.  Vapors  began  to  gather  and  drift  up  the 
river  toward  the  north.  She  eyed  them  with  a 
curious  expectancy.  Somewhere  was  heard  the 
hollow  baying  of  a  hunting  hound.  A  cloud 
shaped  like  a  boat  drove  past  on  the  breeze.  Zoe 
looked  up  with  a  joy  in  her  face  that  was  wonder- 
ful to  see.  "  Sebastian  !"  she  cried,  and  stretched 
forth  her  arms.  The  others  looked  into  the  air, 
wondering.  When  they  turned  to  her  again  they 
wondered  no  less  at  the  great  calm  that  had  come 
to  her, — a  calm  never  more  to  be  broken  by  the 
storms  or  accidents  of  this  world. 


152 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

THE  HEADLESS  DESERTERS 

TWO  soldiers  of  the  British  garrison  on  Drum- 
mond  Island,  of  the  Manitoulin  group,  were 
homesick.  They  had  been  stationed  at  this  lone- 
some post  for  several  years,  after  the  war  of  1812 
was  over,  and,  having  neither  the  excitements  of 
battle,  the  pleasures  of  frontier  life,  nor  the  com- 
forts of  home,  they  chafed  at  their  restraints  and 
their  remoteness  from  such  of  their  kind  as  they 
most  valued.  They  resolved  to  desert.  Lake 
Huron,  between  the  island  and  the  shores  of 
Georgian  Bay,  was  frozen.  They  would  cross  to 
the  mainland,  follow  a  trail  to  Toronto,  gain 
United  States  territory,  and  take  ship  for  England. 
On  the  first  clear  night  after  coming  to  this  de- 
cision they  escaped.  The  commander  of  the  post 
was  a  martinet  whose  severity  was  in  large  measure 
responsible  for  the  discontent  among  his  men,  and 
he  determined  to  use  sharp  remedies  to  prevent 
this  homesickness  from  becoming  contagious.  No- 
tice was  posted  at  the  barracks  that  twenty  dollars 
apiece  would  be  paid  for  the  return  of  each  run- 
away, dead  or  alive.  Some  black  looks  were  bent 
on  the  commander,  and  some  mutinous  talk  was 
heard  in  barracks,  but  what  of  that  ?  Soldiers  were 
cheap,  and  of  little  more  account  than  cattle,  in  his 
opinion. 

A  camp  of  Indians  neighbored  the  military  set- 
tlement, and  the  savages  often  visited  the  garrison 

153 


Myths  and  Legends 

to  sell  game  or  pick  up  scraps  of  bread.  It  was 
not  long  before  they  knew  of  the  reward,  and  two 
stalwart  hunters  fitted  on  their  snow-shoes  and 
hurried  off  on  the  trail,  while  it  was  still  to  be 
descried,  though  dimly,  along  the  wind-swept  ice 
floor.  With  blood  they  could  buy  that  more  pre- 
cious liquor,  rum.  The  tracks  showed  more  clearly 
on  Great  Manitoulin  Island,  where  the  red  pur- 
suers shortly  found  them.  They  skulked  along  the 
shore  while  the  short  day  lasted,  making  better  time 
in  the  bright  midwinter  moonlight.  Presently  they 
slackened  their  eager  pace  and  went  forward  with 
fresh  caution,  for  they  saw,  just  around  a  wooded 
point,  a  glow  in  the  air.  The  half-perished  fugi- 
tives had  set  fire  to  some  drift-wood  and  were 
seated  on  a  log  facing  the  flames.  So  attent  and 
unsuspecting  were  the  soldiers,  and  so  loud  was  the 
crackle  of  the  burning  wood,  that  the  approach  of 
the  murderers  was  unheard.  The  Indians  were  at 
their  backs,  their  tomahawks  in  hand.  In  another 
moment  the  heads  of  the  deserters  had  been  smitten 
from  their  shoulders.  With  these  ghastly  relics 
tied  at  their  belts  the  Indians  regained  the  barracks, 
delivered  the  proofs  of  their  industry,  and  received 
their  forty  dollars, — a  sum  sufficient  for  a  long  and 
lurid  debauch.  So  suddenly  did  the  axe-blows  fall 
that  the  bodies  of  the  soldiers  were  not  jarred  from 
their  seats,  and  did  not  topple,  but  remained  with 
hands  extended  to  the  blaze.  And  there  they  sit 
on  winter  nights.     Their  fire  burns  blue  now  in- 

154 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

stead  of  red,  and  shines  on  uniforms  that  are  mil- 
dewed and  faded.  When  the  fisherman  or  hunter 
puts  in  at  this  point,  hoping  for  shelter,  he  gives 
one  glance  at  the  headless  soldiers  ;  then,  as  fast  as 
his  legs  will  carry  him  or  his  arms  can  pull  at  the 
oars,  he  leaves  the  gruesome  spot.  When  he 
passes  by  daylight  no  figures  are  there, — nothing 
but  charred  branches. 


THE  DEVIL'S  HEAD 

ON  a  bluff  overhanging  an  inlet  of  the  Lake 
of  the  Woods,  near  Rat  Portage,  Ontario, 
is  a  curiously  marked  and  weathered  mass  of  granite, 
the  ledge  resembling  a  broad,  distorted  face  with 
staring  eyes  and  savagely  grinning  mouth.  Some 
larkish  persons  have  used  paint  to  increase  the 
human  suggestion  of  the  thing,  and  persons  of 
weak  nerves  suddenly  coming  upon  it  for  the  first 
time  have  been  rudely  startled  and  have  been  com- 
pelled to  ask  for  flasks.  Skull  Rock  and  Devil's 
Head  they  call  it,  the  names  being  used  indiffer- 
ently. It  is  twenty  feet  high,  and  of  about  the 
same  width.  The  mouth,  strangely,  is  a  cave, 
which  may  be  entered  for  ten  feet  and  leads  to  a 
deep  throat  in  the  stone  behind.  Nearly  every 
miner  who  enters  this  region  to  prospect  for  metal 
visits  this  freak  and  touches  his  palm  to  its  fore- 
head for  luck  ;  for  the  first  gold-bearing  rock  dis- 
covered by  white  men  in  this  region  was  found  in 

155 


Myths  and  Legends 

the  mouth  of  this  great  mask.  It  was  said  that 
Indians  put  it  there  •  but,  while  the  mound-builders 
knew  the  value  of  copper,  and  worked  it  skilfully 
at  the  Lake  Superior  mines  before  the  era  of  Co- 
lumbus, there  is  nothing  to  prove  that  they  valued 
gold  until  the  frauds  and  ferocity  of  Europeans 
showed  them  how  much  other  men  could  prize 
it.  One  miner  travelled  fifteen  hundred  miles  to 
touch  this  face  before  he  began  a  search  for  gold  in 
quite  another  part  of  the  country.  The  Indians 
are  indifferent  to  this  phase  of  the  matter.  They 
see  in  the  glaring  monster  the  head  of  a  giant  who 
came  out  of  the  Northwest  to  protect  them  against 
the  whites,  and  they  feel  a  reverence  for  it  which 
they  used  to  prove  by  burying  their  bravest  men  in 
its  shadow.  Consequently,  it  is  not  to  them  the 
head  of  a  devil,  but  of  a  hero.  There  are  many 
traditions  of  warriors  who  were  to  help  them  repel 
the  hated  French  and  English,  and  until  a  recent 
date  they  read  comfort  in  heavenly  signs,  and  looked 
hopefully  to  every  strong  man  of  their  own  race, 
down  to  Sitting  Bull,  to  free  the  land.  The  comet 
of  181 1  they  said  was  the  avenging  arm  of  Te- 
cumseh.  The  expected  Messiah,  in  whose  honor 
the  exciting  ghost-dances  have  been  held  from  time 
to  time,  is  by  some  affirmed  to  be  Manibozho.  It 
was  not  Manibozho  who  left  his  skull  here  in  the 
wilderness,  grinning  at  the  faithful,  for  he  was  a 
man  of  peace  and  wise  counsel.  It  was  possibly  a 
visitant   from   the   happy   hunting-grounds.     Look 

156 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

west  from  Calgary  to  the  tumbled  Gothic  peaks  of 
the  Rockies,  and  you  see  the  Indian's  "  bridge  of 
the  world"  leading  to  heaven.  It  was  from  those 
happy  hunting-grounds  that  the  giant  rescuer  re- 
turned to  fight  once  more,  but  vainly,  for  his 
people. 

FATHER  JACQUES'S  VENGEANCE 

IN  one  of  the  forays  of  red  men,  so  horribly 
frequent  in  the  old  days,  a  family  of  French 
people  on  an  island  on  the  Otonabee,  near  Lud- 
gate's  Hill,  was  exterminated,  all  save  a  little  girl 
of  two  years,  whom  the  Indians,  in  adopting,  named 
Sajo.  The  Ojibway  raiders  were  perhaps  the  more 
cruel  in  this  act  because  they,  too,  had  suffered 
from  an  incursion  of  their  foes  about  that  time, 
and  among  the  captives  who  had  been  led  away  from 
their  camp  by  the  Hurons  was  the  chief's  son,  Long 
Snake.  Years  passed  after  these  acts  of  evil,  and 
wounds  had  time  to  heal.  If  the  old  chief,  Swan, 
sometimes  mourned  his  son,  the  charm  of  his  white 
captive,  who  had  become  to  him  as  a  daughter, 
softened  his  grief,  and  so  in  time  he  came  to  think 
of  Long  Snake  as  dead.  A  gentler  spirit  moved  the 
Ojibways,  for  the  "  black-coats"  had  come  among 
them,  teaching  peace.  Father  Jacques  especially 
had  their  love  and  confidence,  for  he  treated  them 
as  men,  not  as  brutes  or  children,  and  proved  what 
right-living  people   the  whites   could  be.     Thus, 

157 


Myths  and  Legends 

on  the  day  when  Father  Jacques  rowed  to  the  island 
of  Otonabee,  where  the  massacre  had  taken  place, 
but  where  the  tribe  now  had  a  village,  the  people 
promised  to  give  a  respectful  hearing  to  his  appeal, 
though  they  had  heard  it  was  not  to  be  to  their 
liking.  He  had  come  to  plead  for  Sajo's  liberty, 
for  she  had  been  seen  by  a  young  white  settler  who 
loved  her  and  was  prepared  to  offer  a  ransom  in 
money,  goods,  or  service.  No,  they  did  not  wish 
her  to  leave  them.  She  was  their  daughter,  their 
sister,  and  when  she  married  it  should  be  as  the 
chief  directed,  to  one  of  their  own  people. 

The  priest  made  his  appeal  to  chief  Swan : 
"  You,  brother,  have  known  the  sorrow  that  comes 
of  severance  from  those  you  love.  Long  Snake 
was  stolen  from  your  home  in  his  childhood.  How 
if  I  were  to  tell  you  that  he  lives  ?  Should  not  Sajo 
then  go  free  ?  How  if  I  were  to  bring  him  back 
to  you  ?  How  if  at  this  moment  he  hears  my  voice, 
is  awaiting  in  that  thicket  and  will  do  my  bidding  ? 
Long  Snake,  come  forth.  Behold  your  son,  O 
Swan,  and  you,  lad,  see  your  father."  The  chief 
gazed  long  at  the  young  man,  grown  so  tall  and 
strong,  and,  slowly  approaching  him,  dropped  his 
hands  on  his  shoulders.  "  It  is  he,"  faltered  the 
old  man  ;  then,  in  a  gush  of  that  feeling  that  inheres 
in  every  race,  savage  or  civilized,  he  caught  the 
boy  in  his  embrace.  The  company  remained  silent 
during  this  scene.  At  last  an  elderly  hunter  said, 
"  He  is  worthy  to  be  Sajo's  husband."     The  sug- 

158 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

gestion  was  caught  up  in  a  general  acclaim.  It 
was  a  turn  in  affairs  that  the  priest  had  not  ex- 
pected. 

"Stop!"  he  cried.  "I  have  done  good  to  you 
and  have  never  asked  for  reward,  but  I  must  do  so 
now.  I  am  akin  to  Sajo,  and  I  demand  her  as  her 
guardian.  She  is  loved  by  a  pale-faced  brave,  who 
will  give  you  many  guns  and  blankets  when  you  let 
her  go.     Let  her  be  brought  here." 

The  girl  was  summoned  from  a  wigwam  at  the 
edge  of  the  settlement,  for  women  seldom  had  a 
voice  in  the  councils  of  the  tribe,  and  she  made 
obeisance  before  the  black-robed  minister. 

"  She  is  worthy  to  be  my  son's  wife,"  exclaimed 
the  chief,  struck  anew  by  her  beauty  and  grace. 
"  Look,  my  son,  this  girl  is  yours.  You,  Sajo, 
shall  be  still  more  my  daughter  than  before  ;  you 
shall  wed  my  son." 

"  Chief  Swan  !  Chief  Swan  !"  cried  the  priest, 
"  I  beg,  I  command  you  not  to  press  this  child  of 
the  white  people  into  a  marriage  without  love. 
She  is  my  relative." 

"  How  can  the  black-coat  make  his  words 
good  ?" 

"  Listen  to  my  confession.  I  thought,  when  I 
was  in  France,  to  have  been  a  soldier  rather  than  a 
priest,  and  had  I  so  decided  I  might  have  come 
among  you  not  as  a  teacher  but  as  a  destroyer.  I 
loved  my  cousin,  Josephine  Disette,  and  she  loved 
me  until  she  met  one  Picot,  a  merchant,  my  better 

159 


Myths  and  Legends 

in  wealth.  Meeting  the  two  walking  arm  in  arm 
one  evening,  I  was  so  struck  by  her  perfidy  that  I 
clutched  a  chain  which  I  had  given  to  her  and 
brutally  tore  it  from  her  neck.  An  ivory  carving 
that  hung  from  it  remained  in  my  hand.  Picot 
aimed  at  me  with  his  cane  and  broke  the  ornament, 
a  smaller  piece  falling  to  the  ground.  I  would 
have  answered  the  blow  but  for  the  appeal  in  the 
woman's  eye,  that  brought  me  to  my  senses,  and  I 
hurried  away  in  rage  and  shame.  I  went  to  Paris 
and  entered  the  priesthood,  coming  to  Quebec  soon 
after.  There  I  but  recently  learned  that  Picot  and 
his  wife — my  cousin — had  lost  their  money  and 
had  come  to  this  land,  too.  They  settled  here. 
The  ruin  of  their  home  is  yonder.  They  were 
killed  by  you,  for  in  those  days  your  eyes  were 
darkened.  Now  for  my  proof.  On  Sajo's  breast 
hangs  an  image  of  the  Good  Son  of  the  Great 
Spirit.     Is  it  not  so  ?" 

"  No.  There  is  an  ornament,  but  it  has  been 
broken." 

Father  Jacques  placed  his  hand  on  the  girl's  head. 
"  Benedicite,  daughter,"  said  he, — "  daughter  in 
the  church,  but  cousin  in  kin.  In  my  youth  I 
vowed  a  vengeance  on  your  father  and  mother  for 
a  fancied  wrong.  I  redeem  you  to  the  world  again 
for  your  sake,  and  for  the  sake  of  a  good  man's 
love.  That  shall  be  my  revenge.  See,  my  peo- 
ple." Drawing  from  his  breast  a  little  bag,  he 
took  out   of  it  a  broken  ornament  of  ivory,  and 

160 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

placing  it  against  the  fragment  worn  by  Sajo  it  was 
seen  to  be  complete.  It  showed  the  crucifixion 
with  the  name  in  gold,  "Josephine."  "In  the 
name  of  the  Good  Son,  whose  likeness  is  there,  I 
claim  my  kinswoman."  And  with  no  word  of  pro- 
test, though  with  sad  eyes,  the  Ojibways  saw  the 
departure  of  their  daughter. 

THE   BONNECHERE   AFFAIR 

THE  Blackfeet  had  camped  on  the  upper  Ot- 
tawa, near  one  of  the  Hudson  Bay  Company 
posts,  in  the  first  half  of  the  present  century,  and 
among  them  was  Big  Moose,  famed  for  his  size  and 
power.  As  he  had  looked  love  on  Little  Fawn,  and 
she  had  declared  her  willingness  to  be  his  wife,  it  is 
surprising  that  her  parents  did  not  give  the  girl  to 
somebody  else.  Some  time  before  the  marriage  oc- 
curred, Big  Moose  entered  the  camp  bearing  in  his 
arms  a  fair-haired  stranger,  a  Scotchman  in  the  em- 
ploy of  the  Hudson  Bay  Company,  who  had  fallen 
while  traversing  the  wood  and  wrenched  his  ankle. 
As  the  fort  was  some  miles  distant,  no  attempt  was 
made  for  several  days  to  move  the  injured  man,  and 
much  of  the  care  of  him  fell  to  Little  Fawn.  He 
was  a  handsome,  heartless  fellow,  who  struck  up  a 
desperate  flirtation  with  his  nurse,  after  the  manner 
of  his  kind,  while  Big  Moose  vainly  played  his 
bone  pipe  in  the  twilight  before  her  lodge.  The 
Indian  was  not  sorry  when  the  stranger  was  able  to 
n  161 


Myths  and  Legends 

go  back  to  his  own  people,  carrying  with  him — 
though  Big  Moose  did  not  know  it — the  heart  and 
honor  of  the  girl  who  was  shortly  to  be  his  wife. 
The  wedding  was  celebrated  with  the  usual  re- 
joicings, and,  in  spite  of  White  Fawn's  thought- 
fulness  and  silence,  the  couple  were  apparently 
happy. 

The  supply  of  food  grew  short  that  winter,  and 
the  more  stalwart  of  the  tribe  had  to  bestir  them- 
selves to  get  meat,  Big  Moose  being  happy  in  the 
assurance  that  when  he  returned  from  the  long 
hunt  a  child  would  greet  him.  True  enough,  the 
child  was  there,  but  it  did  not  greet  him,  for  it  was 
dead — dead  on  its  mother's  breast,  and  she,  too, 
was  dead.  The  babe  had  yellow  hair.  The  Indian 
swore  an  oath  against  the  white  betrayer. 

Five  years  passed.  John  Rigby  had  become  a 
prosperous  smith  in  the  village  that  had  grown  up 
about  the  second  shoot  of  the  Bonnechere,  a  few 
miles  above  its  meeting  with  the  Ottawa.  His 
daughter  Jessie  was  his  idol,  and  he  had  taken  a 
pride  and  pleasure  in  ministering  to  her  tastes, 
sending  as  far  as  to  Boston  for  the  books  she  wished 
to  read.  Her  favorite  place  of  study  was  an  island 
in  the  stream,  near  the  fall.  It  was  summer,  and 
she  sat  there  poring  on  a  favorite  volume,  obliv- 
ious to  all  about  her.  The  path  to  this  island  was 
across  the  dry  bed  of  the  stream,  for  the  water 
had  been  dammed  above,  in  order  to  shoot  down 
the  logs  that  made   the  chief  industry  of  the  place 

162 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

and  region.  So  absorbed  was  she  in  her  book  that 
she  did  not  see  the  slow  rise  nor  hear  the  lapping 
of  the  water  as  it  overflowed  its  channel  near  the 
left  bank  and  began  to  fill  the  dry  space  which  she 
had  crossed  an  hour  before.  She  was  roused  by  a 
crash.  Her  escape  was  cut  off.  Down  came  the 
logs,  and  with  them  the  "  river  drivers,"  a  swear- 
ing, quarrelling  lot,  coarsely  dressed,  smelling  of 
liquor,  with  Dan  McDonald  in  the  lead,  a  fair, 
fearless  fellow,  a  bold  fighter,  a  bit  of  a  thief,  and  a 
mystery,  for  it  was  thought  he  had  once  been  a  gen- 
tleman. A  mass  of  timber  came  against  the  upper 
end  of  the  islet  with  a  shock,  and  the  girl  shrank 
with  a  scream.  Dan  saw  her.  Jumping,  swim- 
ming, scrambling,  he  gained  the  patch  of  ground, 
caught  her  as  a  swirl  of  water  swept  her  from  her 
feet,  and,  bidding  her  rest  her  hands  on  his  shoul- 
ders and  trust  in  him,  he  swam  down  the  stream  to 
safety.  He  took  her  home,  then,  and  returned  to 
work.  A  trifle  like  a  ducking  did  not  worry  him. 
Yet  his  life  changed  from  that  day,  for  in  that 
brief  service  he  had  met  her  look  of  appeal  and 
gratitude,  and  he  loved  her.  No  more  gaming, 
drinking,  ruffling,  and  late  hours.  He  confessed 
the  sins  and  follies  of  his  past  life  and  asked  her 
help  to  keep  him  a  better  man.  He  must  soon 
leave  the  village  to  raft  the  lumber  down  to  Bytown, 
the  Ottawa  of  a  later  time,  and  could  not  see  her 
for  some  weeks.  Would  she  say  good-by  to  him  ? 
Certainly,  and  would  wish   him  a  safe  and  pros- 

163 


Myths  and  Legends 

perous  journey.  Would  she — could  she — care  a 
little  bit  that  he  was  going  away  ?  Yes,  she  had 
enjoyed  his  calls,  and  would  be  glad  to  see  him 
again.  Then — could  she  love  him  ?  Whatever 
her  answer  was,  it  is  certain  that  within  an  hour 
they  went  out  for  a  walk  in  the  moonlight,  and  in- 
stinctively turned  toward  the  cascade  where  they 
could  see  the  island  on  which  they  had  met;  cer- 
tain, too,  that  they  stood  there  for  a  long  time, 
with  clasped  hands.  As  they  looked  into  the 
water,  a  drunken  Indian  lurched  by  and  growled  a 
curse.  It  was  Big  Moose.  A  vague  fear  came 
upon  them  both. 

The  next  night  Dan  is  on  board  the  raft,  drift- 
ing down  the  dark  river, — drifting  toward  a  darker 
river  than  he  sees.  He  is  watching  the  stars  in 
the  water  and  dreaming  of  happy  days  to  come. 
A  dark  form  steals  from  behind  the  little  cabin  of 
the  raft,  and  in  a  minute  Dan  is  roused  from  his 
meditations  bv  a  clutch  of  hands  at  his  throat.  He 
succeeds  in  turning,  and  strikes  wildly  at  Big  Moose, 
whose  glaring  eyes  he  can  distinguish  in  the  star- 
light, as  well  as  the  glint  of  a  knife  that  the  Indian 
is  holding  in  his  teeth,  awaiting  the  chance  to  stab. 
In  their  struggle  both  fall  into  the  water.  Some 
days  go  by  before  Jessie  hears  that  two  bodies  have 
been  found  on  the  Ottawa,  a  white  man's  with  fair 
hair,  and  that  of  an  Indian  who  bit  upon  a  knife 
and  clutched  the  other's  throat. 


164 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

HE  WENT  BACK  FOR  HIS  GUN 

GITCHE  GAUZANI  lived  on  the  north 
shore  of  Lake  Superior,  not  far  from  the 
place  where  great  Manabozho  rests.  Before  he 
had  become  an  old  man  he  died  of  an  illness,  and 
they  prepared  to  bury  him,  like  the  others  who 
had  gone,  with  his  head  to  the  west,  since  it  is  in 
that  direction  that  they  journey  toward  the  land  of 
the  sleeping  sun  and  the  happy  hunting-grounds. 
The  usual  bows,  arrows,  blankets,  dishes,  knives, 
spoon,  pipe,  meats,  fruits,  and  ornaments  were 
brought  to  put  into  the  grave  with  him,  for  these 
things  are  needed,  they  believe,  in  the  long  march 
to  shadow-land.  Gitche  Gauzani  looked  so  life- 
like that  his  family  refused  to  allow  him  to  be 
buried,  and  it  was  just  as  well  they  did  so,  for  in 
four  days  his  soul  returned  to  his  body,  and  he 
awoke.  He  had  come  back  for  his  gun.  He  had 
a  fine  one,  and  he  wished  it  to  be  buried  with  him, 
but  his  relatives  had  taken  a  liking  to  it,  and  had 
insisted  that  a  bow  and  arrows  were  good  enough 
for  a  dead  man.  So  he  had  set  off  along  the  broad 
road  of  the  dead.  Ah,  yes,  it  was  beautiful,  but 
he  had  no  gun.  There  were  fields  of  richest  vege- 
tation, many  groves,  birds  without  number  filled 
the  air  with  song  ;  he  reached  the  misty  valley — 
misty  because  the  river  of  women's  tears  ran 
through — that  spread  around  the  shining,  tranquil 
city  of  the  departed,  and  there  were  buffalo,  moose, 

165 


Myths  and  Legends 

deer,  antelope,  and  other  game  that  walked  beside 
him,  fearless,  for  he  had  no  gun.  Recalling  his 
dying  request  to  his  friends,  he  started  home  to  get 
it,  and  then  he  met  the  endless  procession  of  pale, 
tired  people  travelling  toward  the  city  of  the  dead. 
They  were  complaining  bitterly  because  they  had 
been  overloaded  with  presents  that  they  could  not 
use.  One  burdened  man  offered  a  gun  to  him,  but 
the  ghost  of  Gitche  Gauzani  wanted  its  own,  and 
it  struggled  on  to  the  place  where  it  had  been  lib- 
erated from  the  flesh,  in  time  to  stop  the  burial. 
Great  fires  seemed  to  rise  around  his  body  to  keep 
him  back,  but  he  made  a  desperate  leap  through 
them,  and  awoke.  He  was  not  entirely  glad  to  be 
on  the  old  earth  again,  but  he  improved  his  chance 
to  advise  his  people.  He  insisted  that  in  future 
they  must  give  to  the  dead  such  things  as  they  had 
been  attached  to,  and  not  trouble  them  with  mis- 
cellaneous luggage  of  which  the  survivors  were 
anxious  to  be  rid. 


KWASIND,  THE  STRONG 

ON  the  shores  near  the  Sault  Sainte  Marie 
lived  Kwasind,  the  Strong.  His  parents 
often  blamed  him  because  he  did  so  little  to  help 
them  and  engaged  so  seldom  in  the  sports  and 
work  of  his  people.  They  said  he  was  dull,  self- 
ish, and  did  not  respect  his  elders ;  but  the  reason 
for  his  reluctance  was  that  he  spoiled  everything 

166 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

he  touched,  he  was  so  muscular.  Once  when  he 
had  been  ordered  to  take  in  his  father's  fish-net  and 
dry  it,  he  wrung  it  out,  and  in  doing  that  he  broke 
it  into  pieces.  Then  it  was  seen  that  he  was  too 
strong  to  work,  and  they  let  him  alone.  He 
amused  himself,  nevertheless,  with  other  kinds  of 
labor  than  that  of  the  camp.  He  threw  fallen 
trees  out  of  the  trails  and  clearings  as  lightly  as  if 
they  had  been  weeds.  He  would  pick  up  rocks 
that  Manabozho  had  thrown  at  his  unrespected 
parent  and  "  shy"  them  into  the  river  as  boys  cast 
pebbles.  He  would  dive  and  stay  under  water  for 
an  hour,  fighting  the  beaver  and  helping  Manabozho 
to  clear  the  streams,  so  that  they  would  not  over- 
flow in  snow-melting  time.  He  did  so  many  things 
of  this  kind,  and  bragged  so  much  about  them,  that 
the  fairies,  the  pukwujinee,  feared  him  and  resolved 
to  have  his  life.  "  He  will  do  so  much  for  men 
that  nothing  will  be  left  for  us  to  do,"  they  said. 
"  He  will  undermine  our  power  and  drive  us  into 
the  river,  where  our  wicked  cousins,  the  neeba- 
nawbaig,  will  have  us." 

Now,  the  strength  of  Kwasind  was  in  his  scalp. 
Struck  there  he  was  helpless ;  only,  the  right  mis- 
sile must  be  used.  He  could  resist  stones  and 
arrows,  but  the  soft  fall  of  white  pine  cones  he 
could  not  endure.  This  the  fairies  learned,  and 
they  perched  among  the  trees,  dropping  pine-seeds 
as  he  passed,  but  missing  him,  and  he,  supposing 
that  squirrels  were  at  work,  paid   no  heed.     The 

167 


Myths  and  Legends 

only  way  in  which  it  appeared  that  he  might  be 
hurt  was  in  a  general  attack.  So,  after  storing  a 
quantity  of  the  cones  at  the  point  of  red  rocks, 
they  awaited  his  coming,  for  they  knew  that  on 
warm  days  it  was  his  custom  to  float  down  the 
river  on  the  current,  half  asleep.  Presently  he 
came  gliding  by  in  his  canoe,  and  the  cones  rained 
upon  him.  As  he  sat  up  to  see  what  was  the 
meaning  of  the  assault,  one  of  the  missiles  struck 
him  fairly  on  the  head,  and  he  fell  from  his  boat 
and  sank,  never  more  to  rise.  Then  the  fairies 
laughed  and  capered  and  were  happy  once  more. 
The  hunters  used  to  hear  them  in  their  dancing, 
until  the  white  men  came  and  drove  away  fairies 
and  hunters  together. 

THE  CURSE  OF  SUCCESS 

NOT  only  did  Hiawatha,  or  Manabozho,  affect 
the  shores  of  Lake  Superior,  but  many 
spirits  of  good  and  evil  inhabited  the  woods,  and 
the  Indians  point  to  the  birch-trees  that  have 
spoken  and  the  rocks  on  which  local  gods  have  sat. 
A  great  boulder  opposite  La  Pointe  bowed  to  the 
young  Otamigan  who,  believing  it  could  have  been 
moved  only  by  his  protecting  god,  never  passed 
without  laying  on  it  an  offering  of  tobacco.  Here, 
in  Kitchi  Garni,  the  Big  Water,  swam  Great  Otter, 
the  first  thing  to  cross  the  world  after  this  planet 
was   made.     At   the   first   step    in   his  journey  he 

1 68 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

reached  ice ;  at  the  next,  swamp  ;  at  the  third, 
water ;  at  the  fourth,  flowers  sprang  about  his  feet. 
But  most  strong,  most  dreaded  of  the  lake  gods 
was  the  evil  one,  the  Matchi  Manitou,  the  great 
creature  who  lived  at  the  bottom  of  the  lake,  some- 
times taking  a  fish's  form,  sometimes  appearing  as 
a  serpent.  None  but  the  wicked  besought  him, 
for  he  was  full  of  guile.  An  instance  of  his  deal- 
ing is  found  in  the  tale  of  the  Indian  who  dreamed 
for  eleven  successive  nights  that  a  voice  had  com- 
manded him  to  go  to  the  lake  edge,  strike  the  water 
with  a  magic  stick,  and  repeat  certain  words  to  it. 
Then  he  should  find  power  that  would  enable  him  to 
secure  health,  wealth,  and  happiness.  On  the  elev- 
enth night  he  woke  his  squaw,  saying,  "  Listen  ! 
Do  you  not  hear  drums  clashing  on  the  water?" 

She  did  not  hear  any  other  sound  than  that  of 
the  surf  lapping  on  the  shingle. 

"  The  drums  are  there.  They  call  me,"  he  ex- 
claimed, and  hurried  from  the  lodge,  while  she, 
fearing  that  his  mind  was  touched,  crept  after, 
cautiously,  and  watched  him  from  the  shadow. 
He  bent  over  the  lake  and  began  a  weird  chant  in 
words  she  could  not  understand,  keeping  time  with 
blows  of  a  medicine-stick  upon  the  waves.  At 
first  the  water  merely  splashed,  but  after  a  little  it 
began  to  eddy,  circling  wider  and  wider,  faster  and 
faster,  with  deepening  roar.  Fish,  frogs,  water- 
fowl, and  lizards  were  drawn  into  the  whirlpool 
and  were  pulled  down  into  its  black  throat ;  the  rim 

169 


Myths  and  Legends 

of  the  whirl  began  to  ascend  the  beach ;  it  lapped 
about  the  man's  feet  and  rose  to  his  knees  ;  the 
ceaseless  rush  of  the  tide  made  him  dizzy,  and  he 
could  barely  hold  his  footing ;  yet  still  he  sang  and 
pounded,  and  demanded  that  the  king  of  fish  ap- 
pear. At  last  the  monster  was  compelled  to  obey 
the  summons.  His  huge  bulk  heaved  above  the 
surface,  and,  fixing  his  baleful  eyes  on  the  man,  he 
cried,  "  What  do  you  wish  with  me  ?" 

"  Give  me  the  magic  power  to  be  rich  and  well 
and  happy." 

"  Happy  !  You  shall  be  strong,  rich,  feared,  a 
great  hunter.  What  more  do  you  need  ?  You  see 
on  my  head  the  charm.  Take  it.  But  you  shall 
give  me  one  of  your  children  in  exchange.  It  is 
agreed  ?" 

The  man  reached  forth  his  hand  and  took  from 
between  the  creature's  horns  a  red,  flower-like  ob- 
ject, that  crumbled  to  dust  in  his  grasp.  "  That," 
said  the  Matchi  Manitou,  "  is  power.  Make  twenty 
little  boards,  sprinkle  the  dust  on  each,  give  to  each 
the  name  of  a  benefit  you  wish,  and  I  will  tell  an 
opposite  harm  from  which  you  shall  be  shielded. 
Whenever  you  need  more  power  come  back  and 
summon  me  again.  So  long  as  we  are  joined  in 
our  work  against  all  other  men  I  shall  hear  you 
call  and  your  power  shall  be  renewed.  Remem- 
ber, each  time  I  am  called  I  have  one  of  your 
children." 

The  great  mass  sank  heavily  in  the  vortex,  and 
170 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

the  lake  was  still.  Floating  off  his  little  boards, 
the  man  wrapped  up  what  powder  he  had  left  and 
plodded  back  to  his  tepee.  His  wife  was  dead, 
overcome  with  horror  at  what  she  had  seen  and 
heard.  The  curse  of  success  had  begun  to  work. 
For  an  hour  the  enchanter  grieved,  but  there  was 
little  softness  in  his  nature,  and  he  hurried  the 
funeral  of  the  woman  that  he  might  begin  his  new 
career  unchecked.  In  a  day  or  two  one  of  his 
children  was  drowned.  The  Bad  God  had  taken 
his  pay. 

Though  obscure  till  then,  the  man  took  on  im- 
portance in  his  tribe.  He  increased  in  size  and 
strength,  and  did  such  killing  in  war  and  the  hunt 
that  they  made  a  chief  of  him.  He  read  the  future 
so  clearly  that  he  became  the  leading  prophet. 
His  spoils  in  war  and  his  levies  in  peace  so  grew 
that  he  had  to  build  the  largest  lodge  in  the  coun- 
try to  hold  his  furs,  his  arms,  his  embroidered 
clothing,  his  wampum,  his  copper  implements  and 
ornaments,  his  store  of  maize,  dried  fruit,  and  meat, 
his  carved  pipes  and  tobacco.  He  had  more  dogs 
than  any  other  man.  He  took  two  new  wives. 
He  painted  his  face  and  dyed  his  feathers  with 
more  brilliant  colors  than  his  neighbors  had  ever 
seen.  His  lodge-covering  was  gay  with  pictures. 
With  each  increase  in  strength  he  assumed  more 
command,  until  at  last  he  became  a  tyrant,  obeyed, 
but  only  through  fear,  met  with  dark  looks,  fol- 
lowed with  scowls.     When  he  was  absent  people 

171 


Myths  and  Legends 

gathered  in  knots  and  whispered.  He  returned  to 
the  lake  for  new  strength  and  new  favors,  and  one 
after  another  his  children  disappeared.  At  the 
last  he  called  to  Matchi  Manitou  in  vain,  for  he 
could  offer  no  more  sacrifice.  He  began  to  waste, 
fever  laid  hold  on  him,  the  wives  he  had  bought  as 
barter  fled  when  they  thought  it  safe  to  do  so,  for 
they  had  never  loved  him,  his  wealth  began  to 
melt  under  pressure  of  his  needs,  his  proud  spirit 
failed,  and  the  common  scorn  was  no  longer  whis- 
pered. Deserted,  feeble,  filled  with  pains,  impo- 
tently  raging  at  his  fate,  he  resolved  on  one  last 
appeal.  He  went  to  the  lake,  beat  it  with  his 
medicine  stick,  and  began  his  chant.  Yes  !  he  was 
heard !  Again  the  water  began  to  swirl ;  it  rose 
about  him,  it  swept  him  from  his  feet,  it  whirled 
him  to  the  vortex,  and  with  one  despairing  cry  he 
was  sucked  into  the  depths. 

THE   DEATH    OF   WAHWUN 

AS  you  ascend  the  river  Mawenetechemon,  in 
northern  Ontario,  you  pass  the  fall  "  where 
Big  Otter  sleeps,"  the  Indian  of  that  name  having 
been  buried  beside  it  after  he  had  been  swept  over 
the  plunge  of  water.  Next  you  cross  the  widen- 
ing called  Lake  Weendawgoo,  where  the  storm 
spirit  lives  ;  and,  lest  you  rouse  his  wrath,  you  must 
go  reverently  and  in  silence.  Then  you  come  to 
one   of  those   forbidding   districts   peculiar   to   the 

172 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

northern  streams,  where  bare  rocks,  sand-hills, 
drowned  trunks,  and  black  ooze  almost  surround 
the  spread  of  the  dark  river.  Here  is  "the  place 
of  death."  In  this  lonely  spot  lived  Wahwun,  a 
powwow,  or  wizard,  who  for  no  reason  except  to 
wreak  his  evil  nature  put  spells  and  troubles  on 
the  people  of  his  tribe.  He  was  endured  because 
he  was  feared,  until  he  caused  a  mysterious  illness 
to  fall  upon  their  chief,  when  they  resolved  to  suf- 
fer no  more  of  his  tyrannies  and  to  punish  him  for 
those  he  had  inflicted.  The  avengers  chose  a 
windy  night,  when  the  sound  of  their  footfalls 
would  be  lost  in  the  strife  of  the  elements,  and, 
stealing  to  his  tepee,  they  rushed  in  and  pinioned 
him  before  he  could  reach  his  medicine-bag  to 
"  spell"  them.  The  medicine-bag  was  destroyed, 
and  he  was  tied  to  a  pile  of  fagots  that  were  set 
on  fire.  As  the  flames  crackled  around  him  he 
scowled  and  hissed  at  them,  snake-like,  and  cried, 
"  May  the  evil  spirit  curse  you  !  May  your  hearts 
faint  in  battle !  May  your  scalps  hang  in  your 
enemy's  lodge  !  May  the  evil  wind  come  out  of 
this  marsh  and  blight  your  corn  and  frighten  off 
your  game  and  kill  your  children  !"  More  he  could 
not  say,  but  with  a  roar  of  hate  gave  up  his  spirit, 
which  was  presently  seen  as  a  black  cloud  hovering 
over  the  lake.  For  years  the  people  suffered  under 
his  curse,  and  even  now  the  place  is  avoided  in  the 
night. 


173 


Myths  and  Legends 

THE   DEVIL'S   HALF-ACRE 

NORTHEAST  from  the  reservation  given  to 
Chief  Brant  for  his  services  to  the  English 
troops,  and  for  some  time  known  as  Wellington 
Square,  was  a  clearing  of  no  large  area,  with  a  log 
cabin  on  it  that  had  been  built  and  occupied  by  a 
man  and  a  woman,  both  of  gentle  manner,  well 
appearing,  and  quite  alone.  Few  people  ventured 
into  that  region  eighty  years  ago,  except  the  trap- 
pers, although  a  trail  led  near  the  clearing  from  the 
head  of  Lake  Ontario  to  an  inland  trading-post. 
On  a  June  day  the  woman  sat  sewing  in  the  door, 
but  every  now  and  then  she  dropped  her  work,  as 
if  to  listen.  She  was  of  French  type,  dark,  with 
a  rich,  out-door  complexion,  soft  eyes,  and  a  win- 
ning smile,  for  as  she  looked  down  the  path  she  did 
smile,  in  expectancy.  At  some  distance  could  be 
heard  the  crack  of  rifles  :  the  Indian  hunters  were 
about ;  but  to  these  sounds  she  paid  no  heed.  She 
sang  a  gay  little  French  song  softly  to  herself  and 
smiled  again.  Suddenly  a  crash  sounded  in  the 
thicket,  and  a  hunted  doe  fled  by  like  an  arrow.  At 
the  same  moment  a  loud  report  came  from  among 
the  trees.  The  deer  sped  on.  The  woman  half 
arose,  toppled,  fell  forward  on  the  step,  and  a  stain 
of  red  trickled  away  toward  the  earth.  Hurried 
steps  sounded  among  the  shrubbery,  following  the 
direction  taken  by  the  doe,  and  the  sun  moved  toward 
its  setting  :  very  slowly  it  went  down  that  day. 

174 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

In  the  twilight  a  man's  voice  called  across  the 
field,  "Lois!"  then,  in  a  higher  key,  "  Lois !" 
There  was  no  answer.  The  man  advanced  eagerly. 
For  an  instant  he  stopped.  He  had  seen  the  shape 
on  the  step,  and  a  shudder  went  through  him.  His 
gun  dropped  from  his  hand,  his  game-bag  slipped 
from  his  shoulder.  With  a  toss  of  his  head  he 
flung  off  the  spell  of  a  fear  that  was  closing  upon 
him  and  ran  to  Lois,  so  still,  so  cold,  with  face 
down  upon  her  arm  as  if  she  had  fallen  into  a 
tired  sleep.  "  Lois !"  he  cried,  "  what  is  it  ?  You 
are  hurt !  Ah,  my  love,  ma  cberie,  open  your 
eyes.  See,  it  is  Paul  come  to  you.  Will  you  not 
speak  to  me  ?"  He  begged,  he  wept,  he  embraced 
her  yielding  form.  At  last,  a  little  sigh.  With 
almost  a  laugh  of  joy  he  caught  her  up,  ran  into 
the  house  with  her,  and  placed  her  on  the  bed.  He 
bathed  her  face,  he  warmed  her  with  fur  wraps,  he 
tried  to  force  hot  drink  into  her  mouth,  but  with- 
out avail :  a  slow,  slight  breathing  was  all  that  be- 
tokened life. 

Just  at  dawn  she  awoke  and  gazed  into  his  face. 
He,  who  had  tried  to  look  comfort  into  the  eyes  of 
others  in  like  case,  knew  the  meaning  of  that  gaze, 
and  his  head  fell  forward  upon  her  hand,  while 
he  was  shaken  with  sobs.  "  It  is  the  punishment, 
Paul,"  she  said.  "  We  have  sinned,  almost  beyond 
forgiveness, — you  against  the  Church,  breaking 
your  priestly  vow,  I  against  my  husband.      Pray — 

pray  for  me — and  for  you " 

175 


Myths  and  Legends 

And  Paul  Daudet,  runaway  priest,  prayed  as  he 
had  not  prayed  since  he  had  striven  against  temp- 
tation. As  the  sun  came  up  he  closed  the  eyes  of 
Lois  and  went  out.  It  was  a  different  world  from 
yesterday's.  His  Eden  was  become  a  hell.  A 
grave  would  soon  hold  all  his  happiness,  but  he 
would  not  go  away.  He,  who  had  deceived  the 
most  trusting,  generous  patron  of  his  Church,  how 
could  he  go  back  ?  Unaided  he  made  the  coffin 
and  dug  the  grave,  and  at  its  edge  he  said  the  funeral 
service.  The  time  was  dull  and  the  world  was 
cold  after  that,  yet  he  lived  on,  alone,  growing  old 
fast,  so  rude,  so  gruff,  that  the  Indians  feared  him. 
How  he  subsisted,  when,  where,  and  how  he  died, 
none  can  say,  but  in  time  he  disappeared,  and  they 
called  his  little  garden  "  the  Devil's  half-acre." 

MEDICINE  HAT 

ON  the  south  fork  of  the  Saskatchewan,  where 
the  prairies  begin  to  feel  the  effect  of  the 
upward  pitch  of  the  distant  mountains  and  to  rise 
into  the  long  slant  that  we  call  the  plains,  stands 
the  promising  town  of  Medicine  Hat.  It  is  a 
name  with  a  character  of  its  own,  and  already  the 
people  who  prefer  such  begin  to  shudder  at  the 
ondrawing  of  the  vandal  who  will  demand  its  abo- 
lition, and  by  dint  of  some  service  in  parliament, 
or  church,  or  the  local  grocery  business,  will  secure 
a  change   in   his   own  behalf.      Then  the  unhappy 

176 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

place  will  become  a  Smithburg,  a  Jonesville,  a 
Browntown,  or  some  other  exasperating  inanity, 
like  a  hundred  thousand  other  inanities  between 
Hudson  Bay  and  the  Gulf  of  Mexico.  Such  a  change 
will  be  all  the  more  a  pity,  because  the  present 
name  throws  a  light  on  the  ways  and  thoughts  of 
primitive  people.  Know,  then,  that  medicine 
means  more  to  an  Indian  than  to  us.  We  think 
of  it  as  something  diabolical  that  is  good  for  us, — 
queer  anomaly  ! — but  the  Indian  distinguishes  as 
"good  medicine"  and  "bad  medicine"  anything 
that  he  fancies  will  change  his  fortunes  for  better 
or  worse.  Imagine  that  Lo  is  hunting  antelope 
and  meeting  no  success.  Presently  he  finds  the 
top  of  a  tomato-can,  and  shortly  after  he  gets  a 
crack  at  his  game.  Can  he  doubt  that  the  piece 
of  tin  gave  the  luck  ?  Not  he.  In  this  he  is  as 
reasonable  as  many  of  his  white  brothers.  He 
wears  that  fragment  of  tomato-can  about  his  neck 
with  his  other  jewelry,  and  it  is  "  good  medicine." 
Well,  several  years  ago  there  was  a  Blackfoot 
chief  who  lived  here  off  and  on,  hunting  sometimes 
and  making  war  on  the  Crees  betweentimes.  He 
had  much  joy  and  profit  in  a  head-dress  of  feath- 
ers, that  he  called  his  medicine  hat,  for  when  he 
wore  it  he  had  good  fortune — if  he  had  luck.  Ah, 
'twas  a  dark,  dark  day  when  he  met  the  Crees  near 
the  site  of  this  town.  He  fell  upon  them  with  great 
industry,  smiting,  slaying,  scalping,  fairly  beaming 
with  satisfaction  ;  but  just  as  the  enemy  was  in 
12  177 


Myths  and  Legends 

flight  a  gust  of  wind  whirled  out  of  the  west, 
caught  the  magic  hat,  and  tossed  it  into  the  Sas- 
katchewan. Instant  was  the  effect :  the  poor  chief 
lost  all  confidence  in  himself  and  his  cause,  and 
with  victory  in  his  reach  he  forbore  to  grasp  it, 
"  skedaddling"  over  the  plains  in  a  panic,  fol- 
lowed by  his  tribe.  And  thus  befell  the  evil  that 
leaves  its  record  in  Medicine  Hat.  Do  you,  reader, 
ever  wear  a  medicine  hat  ? 


GHOST  WOMAN  AT  THE  BLOOD  CAMP 

CHIEF  HEAVY  COLLAR,  of  the  Blood 
tribe,  left  his  camp,  on  the  site  of  Fort 
McLeod,  with  a  war-party,  to  exterminate  a  few 
acquaintances  in  the  Cypress  Hills,  but,  finding  that 
his  departure  had  been  reported  to  the  enemy, 
there  was  nothing  for  it  but  to  jog  home  again. 
On  the  South  Saskatchewan,  above  Seven  Persons 
Creek,  he  left  his  party  to  kill  a  buffalo,  and  while 
roasting  a  slice  of  the  meat  he  thought,  "  If  one 
of  the  young  men  were  with  me  I  would  send  him 
back  to  that  hill  for  some  hair  from  the  buffalo's 
head,  so  I  could  clean  my  gun  with  it."  In  a 
minute  a  shag  of  this  hair  blew  toward  him  and 
fell  at  his  feet.  Tramping  up  the  stream  to  St. 
Mary's  River,  he  crawled  into  a  bunch  of  rye 
grass  to  sleep.  But  all  night  he  was  conscious  of 
faint,  strange  noises,  and  he  was  troubled.  At 
dawn  he  found  that  he  was  lying  beside  a  skeleton  : 

178  ' 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

a  Blackfoot  woman  had  been  killed  there  in  the 
preceding  summer.  Next  day  he  went  as  far  as 
Belly  River,  where  at  nightfall  he  made  a  fire  in  the 
shelter  of  a  tree  that  had  come  down  in  a  freshet. 
The  skeleton  had  been  following  him,  for  now 
he  saw  it,  seated  astride  a  branch,  whistling  and 
swinging  its  legs  in  time  to  the  tune.  Four  times 
he  prayed  the  thing  to  leave  him,  but  it  only 
whistled  the  more,  looking  up  at  the  stars  in  a 
complacent  manner,  until  anger  got  the  better  of 
fear,  when  Heavy  Collar  fired  at  the  skeleton,  and 
it  fell  backward,  screaming,  "  You  have  killed  me 
again  !  Dog !  there  is  no  place  on  earth  where 
you  can  hide  from  me."  All  that  night  the  chief 
ran  from  the  skeleton,  its  angry  words  dying  in  the 
distance,  then  approaching  and  lending  the  fresh 
energy  of  fright  to  his  jaded  frame.  At  daylight 
his  companions  saw  from  the  Belly  River  buttes 
the  two  figures  approaching,  and,  descending  to 
meet  their  chief,  they  began  to  chafF  him  for  bring- 
ing back  a  stranger  wife.  Yet  as  they  looked 
about  they  discovered  no  woman,  and  only  the 
footprints  of  Heavy  Collar  could  be  seen  along  the 
ground.  Then  he  knew  that  his  senses  had  not 
deceived  him,  and  that  he  was  haunted. 

On  regaining  the  camp  a  feast  of  welcome  was 
set  in  nearly  every  lodge,  and,  leaving  his  own 
tent,  to  eat  with  a  neighbor,  Heavy  Collar  saw  a 
bear  walk  out  of  the  brush,  as  if  attracted  by  the 
odor  of  food,  and  he  threw  a  bone  at  it  to  drive  it 

179 


Myths  and  Legends 

away.  "  You  killed  me  once,  and  again  you  are 
killing  me,"  cried  the  creature ;  for  it  was  the 
ghost  woman  in  that  guise.  He  shouted,  "  A  ghost 
bear  is  upon  us  !"  whereon  all  the  people  in  the 
camp  crowded  into  his  tepee  and  listened  as  the 
ghost  tramped  about,  grumbling,  outside.  First 
she  turned  the  wing,  or  flap,  at  the  top  of  the 
lodge,  so  that  the  wind  would  blow  the  smoke  of 
Heavy  Collar's  fire  back  into  the  tent  and  strangle 
the  people.  They,  hearing  her  threats  to  kill  them, 
began  to  pray  to  her.  After  a  time  the  chief's 
mother  lighted  a  pipe  and  offered  it  in  propitiation, 
and  as  the  ghost  backed  away  the  woman  followed, 
still  extending  the  pipe.  Heavy  Collar  ran  out  and 
seized  his  mother  about  the  waist,  but  she  was 
drawn  on  as  by  an  invincible  power.  Another 
man  caught  him,  and  he  in  turn  was  held  by 
another,  until  the  whole  village  was  on  the  march. 
Suddenly  the  pipe  fell  from  the  old  woman's  hands. 
She  was  dead.  The  ghost  was  satisfied  with  one 
life,  and  melted  out  of  sight,  never  to  be  seen 
again. 

THE   BLACKFOOT   EDEN 

NAPI,  Old  Man,  first  to  be  born  from  nature's 
creative  forces,  built  the  mountains,  levelled 
the  prairies,  caused  trees  to  grow,  made  the  Teton 
River,  rested  on  a  hill  above  it,  leaving  there  the 
outline  of  his  form,  then  walked  northward,  build- 
ing the  Sweet  Grass  Hills  with  rocks  that  he  car- 

180 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

ried.  Now  he  covered  the  earth  with  grass  and 
fruits,  constructed  some  animals,  "  little  brothers" 
he  called  them,  and  made  of  clay  a  woman  and  her 
son.  In  four  days  this  clay  was  able  to  walk  and 
speak,  and  the  woman,  having  seen  that  the  brutes 
were  mortal,  asked  of  her  creator  if  she  and  her 
companion  would  always  live.  Said  Old  Man,  "  I 
had  not  thought  of  that.  If  this  buffalo-chip  floats 
on  the  river,  people  will  rise  again  four  days  after 
they  die.  If  it  sinks,  there  is  an  end  to  them.', 
The  dung  floated.  But  the  woman  was  dissatisfied. 
"  Let  it  be  as  this  stone  decides,"  she  said.  "  If  it 
floats  we  will  live  forever."  The  stone  sank,  and 
the  son  died.  So,  because  of  a  foolish  woman,  all 
must  die.  But  she  had  other  children,  very  poor, 
very  ignorant,  save  for  what  Old  Man  gave  and 
taught  them.  They  had  no  weapons  until,  moved 
by  pity  at  the  sight  of  several  men  gored  to  death 
by  buffalo,  Old  Man  invented  the  bow  and  arrow, 
and  taught  them  to  make  fire  by  rubbing  sticks,  and 
to  make  utensils  of  stone. 

At  the  north  end  of  the  Porcupine  Mountains  he 
stopped  to  make  another  tribe  of  men,  which  he 
did  by  designing  mud  images,  blowing  on  them, 
and  commanding  them  to  be  people.  The  animals 
were  following  in  his  track  wherever  he  went,  for 
they  understood  him,  talked  with  him,  and  served 
him  willingly,  but  the  new  people  ate  them,  and  in 
order  still  better  to  appease  their  hunger  he  made 
buffalo  enough  to  occupy  the  northern  plains,  for 

181 


Myths  and  Legends 

this  original  Eden  was,  roughly,  the  country  ex- 
tending east  of  the  Rocky  Mountains  for  a  hundred 
miles  or  so,  and  between  the  Yellowstone  and 
the  North  Saskatchewan.  Still  moving  northward, 
Old  Man  paused  at  the  meeting  of  Bow  and  Elbow 
Rivers  to  create  another  family  and  teach  and  pro- 
vide for  it.  At  Red  Deer  River  he  stretched  him- 
self on  the  earth  for  another  sleep,  and  there  you 
may  see  the  imprint  of  his  form.  On  waking  he 
moved  still  farther  from  the  warm  lands,  where 
people  grow  lazy  and  timid,  and  climbed  to  the 
summit  of  a  tall  hill.  It  was  steep,  and  he  amused 
himself  by  sliding  to  the  foot,  the  place  being 
known  to  this  day  as  Old  Man's  Sliding  Ground. 
In  after-times  he  set  aside  this  Eden  for  the  Black- 
feet,  Bloods,  Piegans,  Gros  Ventres,  and  Sarcees, 
warning  them,  when  others  came,  to  fight  them 
back.  They  did  so  until  white  men  entered  the 
region  with  friendly  protestations,  and  now  the 
Indians  have  no  land,  no  game,  no  place  in  the 
world.  Had  they  obeyed  Old  Man  it  would  have 
been  different.  But  Old  Man  has  not  died,  and 
never  will  die.  He  has  removed  to  the  mountains 
in  the  west,  beyond  the  vexing  sight  of  smelters  and 
locomotives,  and  when  he  is  sorely  wanted  by  his 
people  he  may  come  back. 


182 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

THE    WICKED    WIFE 

WHEN  Fort  Edmonton,  on  the  North  Sas- 
katchewan, was  built  by  the  Hudson  Bay- 
Company,  a  number  of  Snake  Indians  were  found 
living  among  the  Piegans  of  the  district,  and  The 
Egg,  one  of  the  Snake  squaws,  married  a  white 
employee  of  the  company.  The  presence  of  these 
Snakes  so  far  from  their  old  home  fell  about  in 
this  way.  A  Piegan,  who  was  good,  brave,  and 
rich  in  ponies,  had  but  one  wife,  whom  he  loved 
so  much  that  he  cared  nothing  for  other  women. 
While  picking  berries  at  a  distance  from  their 
camp  they  were  surprised  by  a  war-party  of  Snakes, 
and  knowing  that  he  would  be  killed  if  captured, 
while  his  wife  would  be  spared  because  of  her 
beauty,  he  left  her — since  it  was  impossible  for 
both  to  escape — and  galloped  back  to  his  people. 
With  six  of  her  relatives  he  undertook  her  rescue, 
and  followed  the  warm  trail  of  the  marauders  for 
several  days.  When  at  last  they  came  to  the  Mis- 
souri the  man  swam  across  it  in  the  darkness  and 
waited  in  a  hollow  to  see  the  women  when  they 
should  come  to  draw  water.  Among  the  first  was 
his  wife.  He  sprang  from  his  hiding-place,  kissed 
her,  and  in  a  hurried  whisper  said,  "  Come,  swim 
the  river  with  me.  Five  of  your  relatives  and  your 
brother  wait  for  us  in  that  wood."  She  hung  back, 
saying  that  she  wanted  to  get  the  pretty  things  that 
had  been  given  to  her,  and  to  steal  a  horse ;  and  on 

183 


Myths  and  Legends 

a  promise  that  she  would  do  this,  the  husband  re- 
crossed  the  river. 

She  was  a  faithless  creature.  She  had  already 
learned  to  love  her  captors,  and  she  betrayed  the 
little  band  of  rescuers  into  their  hands.  Her  hus- 
band, who  alone  was  taken  alive,  the  others  being 
scalped,  was,  at  her  instigation,  tortured  by  fire 
and  boiling  water,  and  bound  to  a  tree  with  black- 
ened face,  that  he  might  be  given  to  the  Sun. 
When  camp  was  broken,  an  old  woman  who  had 
lingered  behind,  out  of  pity  for  him,  cut  his  bonds, 
gave  him  food,  and  promised  that  she  would  mark 
the  trail  followed  by  the  wife.  Then  he  went 
back  to  the  north.  Great  were  the  anger  and  grief 
when  he  bore  the  news  of  death,  defeat,  and  du- 
plicity to  his  people,  and  quick  was  their  revenge. 
The  trail  had  been  marked  so  well  by  twigs  that  they 
were  soon  in  sight  of  the  Snake  camp,  and,  stealing 
into  the  lodge  of  the  kind  old  woman,  the  husband 
clapped  his  hand  on  her  mouth,  that  she  might  not 
scream,  and  kissed  her.  So  soon  as  she  had  been 
quieted,  she  told  him  that  his  wife  was  not  only  with 
the  Snakes,  but  had  become  chief  among  them,  as 
she  was  believed  to  be  "  a  great  medicine."  Having 
bidden  the  beldam  to  draw  aside  her  friends  and 
relatives,  and  charging  her  to  say  that  she  had 
been  told  in  a  dream  to  do  so,  the  Piegans  fell  upon 
the  camp  with  a  whoop,  and  killed  nearly  all  that 
were  in  it.  The  wife  was  decorated  with  the  scalp 
of  her  Snake  lover,  and  made  to  dance  on  burning 

184 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

brush  until  she  fell  and  died.  Then  the  old  woman 
and  her  friends  were  summoned  from  their  retreat, 
and  as  a  reward  for  what  she  had  done  they  re- 
ceived half  of  all  the  horses  and  plunder  in  the 
village.  On  the  next  day  the  Piegans  started  back 
to  Canada,  and  as  they  had  won  the  hearts  of  this 
company  of  Snake  survivors,  the  latter  followed 
them,  married  among  them,  and  became  as  Piegans. 

FOURTH    OF  JULY   AT   YALE 

IN  the  early  days  at  Yale,  on  the  Fraser,  the 
place  was  peopled  by  a  rough  crowd  of  six 
hundred  Yankees,  who  had  been  drawn  into  the 
region  by  the  discovery  of  gold  on  American  Bar. 
The  "  foreigners"  in  this  company  were  few,  and 
the  Americans  managed  the  town  affairs  in  their 
own  way.  On  the  Fourth  of  July  after  their 
arrival  they  decided  to  celebrate  the  independence 
of  the  United  States.  They  were  on  British  terri- 
tory, but  what  odds  ?  Nobody  was  there  to  object. 
Oh,  but  stop  ;  there  was  one  objector,  a  cockney, 
known  as  "  Bloody"  Edwards,  who  freely  flung 
away  his  h's  and  did  not  mix  pleasantly  with  his 
neighbors.  Having  imbibed  strong  waters  and 
fired  salutes  until  their  patriotism  was  at  a  high 
pitch,  the  miners  decided  to  call  on  Edwards  and 
"  initiate"  him.  That  worthy  saw  the  crowd  ap- 
proaching with  fife,  drum,  and  colors,  and  he  stood 
at  the  door  of  his  shack,  waving  a  small  British 

185 


Myths  and  Legends 

flag  and  roaring  for  Hold  Hingland  and  the  queen. 
The  flag  was  like  the  proverbial  red  rag  shaken 
before  a  bull,  except  that  it  was  John  Bull  who  was 
shaking  it. 

"  Naturalize  him,"  cried  one. 

"  Swear  him  in.  Make  him  take  the  oath," 
shouted  another. 

They  proposed  the  oath  of  allegiance  to  the 
United  States.  Edwards  refused  it  with  profane 
and  contemptuous  remarks  about  the  republic,  and 
another  "  bloody  hooray"  for  the  queen. 

"  Duck  him  in  the  Fraser,"  commanded  the 
Irishman  in  the  party. 

"  Yes,  baptize  him  as  an  American  citizen." 

The  Briton  remaining  obdurate,  he  was  hustled 
to  the  river  and  cast  in  with  a  mighty  splash.  He 
cheered  for  England  as  he  arose  to  the  surface  and 
struck  out  for  shore.  The  crowd  laughed,  and,  con- 
sidering the  incident  closed,  prepared  to  return, 
but  the  Irishman  had  a  century  of  inherited  hate  to 
satisfy,  and,  bending  over  the  bank  as  Edwards  had 
almost  touched  it,  he  thrust  him  back  into  the  cold, 
muddy  water,  shrieking,  "  Drown  him,  dom  him  ! 
Drown  the  son  of  a  gun !" 

Emerging  a  second  time  from  the  swift  current, 
the  Briton  cheered  again,  but  weakly,  and  swam 
more  slowly.  The  Irishman  again  stood  ready  to 
force  him  under  water. 

"  The  darned  fool  don't  know  enough  to  give 
in,"  commented  one  of  the  bystanders. 

1 86 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

"  It  isn't  fool ;   it's  grit,"  answered  another. 

"  Drown  him  !     Kill  him  !"  howled  the  Celt. 

A  tall  Yankee  advanced  to  the  bank,  thrust  his 
elbow  into  the  Irishman's  stomach,  with  some 
advice  to  get  away,  and,  lending  his  hand  to  the 
tired  swimmer,  pulled  him  out.  Nearly  all  fol- 
lowed him  to  the  nearest  cabin,  a  little  concerned 
when  they  saw  how  weak  and  chilled  he  was. 
After  being  stripped,  rubbed,  clothed  in  dry  rai- 
ment, and  entreated  in  a  friendly  manner,  a  bumper 
of  spiced  rum  was  poured  out  for  him,  in  which 
he  was  at  liberty  to  drink  anybody's  health.  He 
drank  it  for  his  own.  The  little  red  flag  they  in- 
duced him  to  give  up,  that  they  might  raise  it  with 
the  stars  and  stripes.  As  the  flags  of  the  two  nations 
lay  spread  on  the  shingle,  where  they  were  to  be 
tied  together,  one  of  those  blasts  of  wind  that  so 
often  belch  through  the  canons  caught  them,  twisted 
them  into  one,  and  sent  them  high  into  the  air, 
soaring  like  an  eagle,  a  spot  against  the  snow- 
fields.  Said  one  old  miner,  solemnly,  "God  has 
joined  them  two  flags  together." 

And  millions  say  to  that,  "  Amen  !" 

DEATH   OF   THE   GREAT   BEAVER 

NORTHEAST  of  Fort  Reliance,  at  the  upper 
extension  of  Great  Slave  Lake,  are  two 
mounds  known  as  Beaver's  Lodge  and  Muskrat's 
Lodge.     These,  the  Indians   say,  were   inhabited 

187 


Myths  and  Legends 

by  huge  animals  that  have  no  likeness  on  earth 
in  our  time.  The  beaver,  who  was  as  large  as  an 
ox,  had  done  such  harm  among  the  villages,  with 
occasional  help  in  mischief  from  his  friend  the 
Rat,  that  the  red  people  swore  to  endure  it  no 
longer ;  so,  giving  over  all  other  business,  they  set 
off  in  a  resolve  to  do  him  to  death.  He  was 
hiding  in  his  mound  when  they  came  upon  him, 
and  they  sent  a  volley  of  arrows  through  a  rift  in 
the  rock  that  pricked  him  in  a  hundred  places. 
This  frightened  him  badly.  He  went  down  into 
the  river  by  a  hole  in  the  earth  that  had  an  open- 
ing under  its  waters.  Crossing  without  coming  to 
the  surface,  he  took  refuge  in  the  home  of  his  old 
partner  the  Rat,  who,  seeing  his  plight,  refused 
the  shelter  of  his  lodge,  for  he  was  willing  to  keep 
out  of  conflicts  with  the  destructive  creatures  that 
occupied  the  skin  houses  on  the  shore.  In  wrath 
at  this  reception  the  Beaver  pulled  his  recalcitrant 
friend  into  the  water  and  belabored  him  so  soundly 
that  the  Indians  saw  the  disturbance  and  hastily 
rowed  to  the  scene  of  it.  The  Beaver  dived  under 
their  fleet  and  reached  the  lake  without  drawing 
breath,  but  his  hunters  kept  sight  of  him  in  the 
clear  water,  and  as  he  emerged  they  filled  his  hide 
with  darts  and  spears,  and  a  running  attack  was  kept 
up  all  the  way  through  the  narrows  until  he  was 
killed.  When  the  Indians  returned,  the  Aheldezza, 
which  had  been  a  gentle  stream,  had  become  a 
fierce  torrent,  broken  by  falls  and  rapids  impossible 

1 88 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

to  ascend  except  by  portages,  and  they  had  no 
sooner  reached  the  Beaver's  house  than  they  were 
swallowed  by  a  whirlpool.  This  account  is  thought 
by  one  explorer  to  figure  the  history  of  a  great 
natural  convulsion,  such  as  the  breaking  down  of 
the  hill  dam  that  formerly  kept  Great  Slave  Lake 
at  a  level  with  Lakes  Artillery,  Aylmer,  and  Clin- 
ton-Golden. 


WHY  THE  MOUNTAINS  WERE  MADE 

WISUKATCAK,  in  the  Cree  myths,  is  a 
demi-god,  like  Old  Man  of  the  Black- 
feet.  He  lived  on  the  plains  with  his  father  and 
mother,  who  often  quarrelled,  and  he  had  a  little 
brother.  In  one  of  the  domestic  wrangles  the  father 
went  wild  with  temper  and  cut  off  the  mother's 
head.  Filled  with  apprehension  rather  than  with 
grief,  the  murderer  said  to  Wisukatcak,  "  Take 
your  brother  with  you,  and  go  away  as  fast  as  you 
can.  If  your  mother's  head  follows  you,  keep  it 
off,  for  it  will  try  to  harm  you.  Here  is  a  flint, 
here  a  fire  steel,  and  here  an  awl.  If  you  see  the 
head,  throw  first  the  flint,  then  the  steel,  then  the 
awl,  and  repeat  this  word,"  And  he  revealed  to 
him  a  magic  word  of  great  power. 

The  children  trudged  away  toward  the  west. 
Soon  they  heard  a  rustling  in  the  sage,  and  saw 
their  mother's  head  rolling  swiftly  over  the  ground, 
and  as  it  came  near  they  could  hear  it  calling  to  her 

189 


Myths  and  Legends 

children.  The  elder  boy  repeated  the  magic  word 
and  threw  the  flint  behind  him.  "  Let  a  wall  of 
rock  rise  up  across  the  earth,"  he  cried.  And  in- 
stantly the  earth  heaved  and  vast  mountains  swelled 
from  the  plain  to  the  sky,  with  the  children  on  the 
western  slope.  These  were  the  Rocky  Mountains. 
It  was  a  long  time  before  the  head  could  scale  this 
range,  but  it  did  so  at  last,  and  went  rolling  toward 
the  sunset  as  an  antelope  would  gallop.  The  boys 
saw  their  danger  again,  and  the  elder,  repeating  the 
magic  word,  threw  the  steel  behind  him,  and  com- 
manded, "  Let  a  fire  rise  up  and  stretch  across  the 
earth."  And  with  appalling  reports  the  craters  of 
Shasta,  Tacoma,  Hood,  Baker,  and  the  rest  opened 
along  the  coast,  and  shot  their  ashes  and  lava  to  the 
zenith.  This  checked  the  progress  of  the  head  for 
an  hour,  and  it  was  scorched  and  blistered,  but  it  kept 
on  presently,  through  the  showers  and  streams  of 
molten  rock,  so  that  it  was  soon  at  the  heels  of  the 
boys  again,  calling  as  before.  Wisukatcak  threw 
the  awl  behind  him,  repeating  the  magic  word,  and 
ordered  that  a  hedge  of  thorns  should  spring  up  to 
reach  across  the  earth.  It  did  so,  and  has  since 
spread,  so  that  we  have  the  cactus  with  us  at  this  day. 
Even  this  barrier  the  head  broke  through,  and  went 
rolling  after  the  children.  Arrived  now  at  a  large 
river,  probably  the  Columbia,  they  saw  a  pelican 
in  the  water,  and  Wisukatcak  hailed  him,  *'  Grand- 
father, take  us  to  the  other  side,  for  our  mother  is 
chasing   us   to   kill  us."     The   pelican  took  them 

190 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

over.  Then  came  the  head,  demanding  the  same 
service.  "  I  am  going  after  my  children,"  it  said. 
"  Carry  me  over,  too,  and  you  shall  have  me  for  a 
wife."  The  pelican  did  not  exhibit  any  enthu- 
siasm over  this  proposition,  but  after  some  urging 
he  stooped  at  the  shore  and  allowed  the  head  to 
roll  upon  his  shoulders,  and,  with  a  caution  to  it 
to  remain  still,  he  arose,  slowly,  to  a  great  height. 
When  poised  over  the  middle  of  the  river,  where 
some  sharp  rocks  jutted  above  the  surface,  he  threw 
off  his  burden  with  a  sudden  lurch,  and  the  head, 
falling  on  the  rocks,  was  smashed  into  pieces.  The 
brains  are  the  masses  of  foam  that  float  on  the  sur- 
face of  the  water  in  times  of  freshet. 


THE   PLACE   OF   DEAD   MEN 

ON  a  small  affluent  of  the  upper  Assiniboin 
is  a  pleasant  plain  with  an  unpleasant 
memory, — the  place  of  the  two  dead  men.  Here 
a  quarrel  occurred  between  two  brothers  that  ended 
in  a  tragedy,  one  of  them  drawing  a  knife  and  slay- 
ing the  other.  Fratricide  was  held  in  such  abhor- 
rence by  their  tribe  that  with  one  accord  the 
spectators  fell  upon  the  murderer  and  killed  him, 
burying  him  beside  his  victim.  From  that  time 
no  Indian  camped  upon  the  place,  for  the  dead  men 
kept  their  peppery  tempers  and  would  greatly  dis- 
turb the  traveller  who  stopped  near  their  graves. 
The  lad  John  Tanner,  who  was  stolen  from  his 
191 


Myths  and  Legends 

home  on  the  Kentucky  River  in  the  early  part  of 
this  century  and  taken  to  Canada,  adopted  the  In- 
dian mode  of  life,  took  an  Indian  wife,  and  became 
a  hunter.  While  camped  near  this  haunted  spot 
he  heard  its  story,  and  resolved  to  show  a  better 
courage  than  the  braves,  by  spending  a  night  there. 
He  pushed  his  canoe  to  the  shore,  ate  his  supper, 
and  rolled  himself  in  his  buffalo-skin  to  sleep ; 
but  soon  two  dead  men  walked  out  of  the  dark- 
ness and  squatted  by  his  fire.  They  spoke  no 
word,  they  did  not  move ;  they  looked  steadily  at 
him  out  of  their  round,  fishy  eyes  until  he  could 
endure  it  no  longer  and  sat  up;  whereupon  the 
watchers  vanished.  Presently  he  fell  asleep,  and 
the  dead  ones  returned  in  his  dreams,  but  now  they 
not  only  stared,  they  gibed  at  him  and  poked  him 
with  sticks.  He  tried  to  resist,  to  rise,  to  cry  out, 
but  in  vain.  One  of  them  told  him  after  a  time 
that  he  would  see  a  horse  fettered  at  the  top  of  a 
low  hill  that  stood  near,  adding,  "  There,  my 
brother,  is  a  horse  which  I  give  you  to  ride  to- 
morrow. And  as  you  pass  here  on  your  way 
home  you  can  call  and  leave  the  horse  and  spend 
another  night  with  us." 

The  day,  which  had  never  before  seemed  so  long 
in  coming,  broke  at  last,  and  the  dead  ones  were 
seen  no  more.  Tanner  arose  as  soon  as  it  was  light 
enough  to  go  on,  drew  his  canoe  among  the  bushes, 
in  perfect  confidence  that  the  promise  was  to  be 
kept,  ascended  the  little  hill,  and  found  the  horse, 

192 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

which  he  mounted  and  rode  to  a  trading-station  not 
many  miles  away.  But  he  never  could  prevail  on 
himself  to  return  to  the  place  of  the  two  dead 
men,  and  his  people  had  a  worse  fear  of  it  than 
ever. 


HOW   THE   INDIANS   BECAME   RED 

THE  Okanagans — who  once  figured  in  an  un- 
official publication  as  the  O'Kanaghans — 
believe  in  Skyappe  and  Chacha,  the  good  and  bad 
spirits  who  are  constantly  moving  through  the  air, 
watching  all  men,  and  they  also  tell  of  a  heroine, 
one  Scomalt,  who  was  great  and  strong  and  ruled 
the  island  where  the  first  men  lived.  This  was 
long,  long  ago,  when  the  sun  was  so  young  that  it 
was  only  as  large  as  a  star,  and  there  was  very  little 
earth  to  live  on.  This  island  was  far  in  the  east, 
and  was  settled  by  White  giants.  War  arose  among 
them,  and  the  noise  and  slaughter  so  exasperated 
Scomalt,  their  queen,  that  she  drove  the  rebels  to 
the  end  of  the  island,  broke  it  off,  and  pushed  it 
out  to  sea.  This  fragment,  with  its  inhabitants, 
now  too  busy  worrying  to  fight,  drifted  for  many 
days,  and  was  so  swept  by  storm  and  so  lacking  in 
food  that  one  by  one  the  people  died,  all  but  a 
man  and  his  wife,  who  deserted  the  derelict,  for  it 
was  water-logged  and  sinking,  and  paddled  day  and 
night  in  their  canoe  until  they  came  to  America, — 
then  an  island  fringed  with  rocks, — and  landed  on 


Myths  and  Legends 

what  is  now  the  territory  of  the  Okanagans.  From 
them  came  all  the  people  of  the  western  world. 
But,  alas  !  they  were  no  longer  white.  After  their 
days  of  exposure  to  the  sun  they  had  been  burned 
red  from  head  to  foot.  Here  the  descendants  of 
this  pair  shall  dwell  until  the  lakes  and  ever-flowing 
rivers  deep  beneath  us  shall  melt  the  foundations 
of  the  world  and  it  will  float  away  again,  that  time 
to  ruin. 

THE   POOL   OF    DESTRUCTION 

SOMEWHERE  off  the  coast,  probably  off 
Vancouver,  was  the  Charekwin,  a  vast  whirl- 
pool where  meeting  ocean  currents  tossed  and  cir- 
cled, and  in  the  centre  of  the  flood  the  waters  were 
sucked  down  with  hideous  roaring  and  lamentation. 
Hardly  less  fearful  were  the  cries  of  those  who 
were  committed  to  the  deep,  for  the  vortex  was 
the  mouth  of  hell,  and  those  who  had  lived  in  evil 
met  their  end  in  water  burial,  so  dreaded  that  the 
coast  Indians  would  readily  die  any  other  death 
than  that  by  drowning.  On  the  coast  of  Cali- 
fornia lived  the  Hogates,  long  ago.  There  were 
only  seven  of  them,  and  they  dwelt  in  houses,  like 
white  men,  for  they  were  strange  to  the  red  people, 
who  say  that  they  came  from  another  land  in  a 
boat.  Large  and  strong  were  these  immigrants, 
with  fierce  appetites,  as  the  kjokken-modding,  or 
"  kitchen-midden,"  attests,  which  they  left  on  the 

194 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

height  of  Point  St.  George,  near  Crescent  City. 
There  are  shells  of  mussels  and  bones  of  elk,  seals, 
and  sea-lions  by  the  ton.  In  killing  the  ocean 
creatures  they  used  a  harpoon  fastened  to  their 
boats  by  a  long  line,  and  once,  having  thrown  this 
weapon  into  an  unusually  large  sea-lion,  the  value 
of  their  prize  decided  them  to  take  a  risk  rather 
than  cut  the  raw-hide  rope,  when  the  monster  set 
off  with  the  speed  of  a  tidal  wave  toward  the 
northwest.  But  if  they  had  thought  to  tire  him 
they  were  mistaken.  Hour  after  hour  they  rushed 
over  the  sea,  beyond  sight  and  comfort  of  the 
land,  and  soon  the  roaring  of  Charekwin  sounded 
across  the  waves.  Too  terrified  to  attempt  an 
escape,  or  knowing  the  hopelessness  of  such  an 
attempt,  the  men  awaited  their  end  in  silence. 
Now  they  could  see  spirits  tossing  on  the  wind  that 
rages  above  the  caldron.  Their  time  on  earth  was 
limited  to  minutes.  But  the  Father  of  Life  had  had 
little  reason  to  reproach  them,  and  he  would  not 
abandon  them  in  this  extremity.  As  they  reached 
the  in-fall  of  the  waters  the  rope  broke  :  the  sea-lion 
was  drawn  under,  struggling  mightily,  but  the  boat 
arose  softly  into  the  air,  circling  as  it  had  circled 
about  the  mouth  of  hell,  ever  rising ;  and  so  the 
seven  Hogates  reached  heaven  and  became  the 
seven  stars, — the  Pleiades. 


195 


Myths  and  Legends 

YEHL,  THE   LIGHT-MAKER 

ATHLINKEET  living  in  sight  of  the  great 
Alaskan  peaks  had  for  a  wife  a  woman  so 
bright  and  fair  that  he  was  exceeding  jealous, 
though  it  was  all  so  dark  on  earth  that  he  could 
barely  see  except  by  fire,  or  by  the  beauty  of  the 
woman  herself,  for  the  heavenly  lights  had  not  been 
set,  and  in  the  gray  the  few  other  beings  groped 
sadly,  trying  to  find  sound  earth  to  live  on.  This 
wife  was  so  faithful  that  she  could  not  so  much  as 
suppose  a  cause  for  jealousy,  and  she  made  the 
state  of  her  husband  worse  by  beaming  pleasantly 
on  all  strangers  and  holding  them  in  cheerful,  in- 
nocent talk.  He  kept  a  flock  of  red  birds  hover- 
ing near  his  lodge,  that  they  might  report  to  him 
what  she  did  and  said  and  who  conversed  with 
her;  and  her  willingness  to  be  with  others  angered 
him  so  that  he  made  a  box,  at  last,  and  hid  her  in 
it.  Because  his  sister's  children  had  merely  looked 
at  her,  while  this  rage  was  on  him,  he  had  slain 
them  every  one.  The  bereaved  mother  walking 
on  the  shore  excited  the  compassion  of  the  fish, 
who  put  their  heads  out  of  the  water  to  ask  what 
ailed  her,  and  the  whale,  the  counsellor  of  his  tribe, 
bade  her  swallow  a  certain  pebble  on  the  beach 
and  drink  some  sea-water,  for  she  should  then  bear 
Yehl,  a  son  nobler  than  those  she  had  lost.  She 
obeyed,  and  the  prophecy  came  true.  In  a  place 
removed  from  her  wrathful  brother  she  brought  up 

196 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

her  boy  to  differ  as  much  from  him  as  he  could. 
He  was  to  do  good  to  men,  and  to  relieve  the  cold 
and  dark  by  setting  fires  in  the  sky.  He  grew  up 
resolved  in  this  course,  and  when  he  gained  his  age 
and  strength  he  went  to  Baranoff  Island,  where  the 
wicked  man  lived,  and  after  biding  his  time  until 
that  ferocious  relative  was  absent,  he  crept  into  his 
lodge,  dragged  out  the  box  in  which  the  beautiful 
woman  was  caged,  and  was  about  to  open  it,  when 
the  Thlinkeet  returned,  and,  catching  him  at  his 
merciful  business,  rushed  at  him  with  spear  and 
club. 

Yehl  struck  up  the  weapons,  and  after  a  struggle 
escaped,  and  some  time  went  by  ere  he  came  out 
of  his  hiding  in  the  shrubbery  to  attempt  again 
the  liberation  of  the  fair  victim.  Possibly  the 
Thlinkeet  believed  that  his  enemy  had  been  mor- 
tally hurt  in  the  fight,  for  he  relaxed  his  guard, 
and  Yehl  surprised  him  in  a  deep  sleep.  First 
he  opened  the  box  that  held  the  stars  and  moon, 
and  they  floated  lightly  up  to  their  places  in  the 
sky.  Then  he  opened  the  box  that  had  been  the 
living  tomb  of  the  innocent  wife,  and  with  a  look 
of  rapture  she,  too,  sped  into  the  skies.  Amaze- 
ment sat  on  every  face,  for  she  was  light  itself; 
and  now,  for  the  first  time,  the  beauty  of  the  world 
disclosed  itself  in  her  smile.  Her  husband,  waking, 
saw  the  empty  boxes,  the  shine  in  the  sky,  the 
triumphant  Yehl  beside  him,  and  with  a  roar  of 
anger  he    rushed  away  to   the    mountains.      The 

197 


Myths  and  Legends 

people,  who  had  been  used  to  groping  by  the  light 
of  comets,  were  so  terrified  at  the  fire  of  the  newly 
risen  sun  that  they  rushed  into  the  sea, — some 
of  them, — and  in  mercy  Yehl  changed  them  into 
fishes,  that  they  need  not  drown ;  others,  leaping 
into  the  air,  out  of  their  wits,  he  turned  to  brightly 
colored  birds ;  while  those  that  ran  to  hide  in  the 
woods  became  deer.  The  rest  fell  prostrate,  hail- 
ing him  as  deliverer,  light-creator,  and  while  he 
stayed  on  earth  they  worshipped  him. 

THE   SHELTER   OF   EDGECUMBE 

AN  Indian  and  his  wife  quarrelled,  not  un- 
usually, and  their  fights  ended  in  victory 
for  the  stronger,  namely,  the  man.  In  fear  of  his 
blows,  after  one  of  these  misunderstandings,  the 
woman  ran  like  a  deer  up  Mount  Edgecumbe,  her 
husband  just  at  her  heels  all  the  way  to  the  top  ; 
but  as  they  reached  that  point  the  spirit  of  the 
peak,  Ahgishanakon,  "  the  woman  who  supports 
the  earth,"  opened  the  rock  and  took  the  woman 
to  her  protection.  "  Back  !"  she  cried  to  the  pur- 
suer. "  Back  to  the  woods  and  howl  your  anger 
there  !  Back  and  prey  on  meaner  creatures,  that 
are  less  worthy  of  your  bragging  when  you  beat 
them.  You  have  aimed  blows  at  the  one  you 
were  bound  to  shelter,  the  mother  of  your  chil- 
dren. She  shall  be  forever  in  my  charge,  while 
you  shall  slink  and  prowl  about  the  earth  for  a  few 

19S 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

years  longer  in  your  real  character.  Wolf  you  are 
by  nature.  Now  be  wolf  in  fact."  And  the  man 
fe'lt  himself  shrinking  and  growing  uncertain  on 
his  feet.  He  could  no  longer  steady  himself.  He 
dropped  forward  on  his  hands.  His  fingers  were 
growing  long,  his  nails  becoming  claws,  his  flesh 
hidden  by  hair.  He  tried  to  cry  his  protest  and 
astonishment,  but  only  a  long,  hoarse  bay  came 
from  his  throat.  He  was  indeed  a  wolf.  Howl- 
ing fiercely,  he  fled  aways  and  still  he  haunts  the 
wood;  yet  when  he  catches  any  animal  he  carries 
it  to  the  mountain-top.  The  distant  rumble  of  the 
storm  is  the  woman's  voice,  talking  with  the 
manitou,  and  the  thunder  is  the  growling  of  the 
wolf  as  he  gnaws  the  bones  of  his  prey.  The 
manitou  of  Edgecumbe,  Ahgishanakon,  saved  her- 
self from  the  universal  deluge  by  catching  at  this 
peak,  and  standing  on  it  held  up  and  saved  the 
world  from  drowning,  too,  while  her  brother, 
Chethl,  struggled  so  hard  to  rise  out  of  the  water 
that  wings  appeared  on  his  shoulders  and  he  be- 
came the  osprey. 

HOW   SELFISHNESS   WAS   PUNISHED 

BEFORE  Sitka  was  dreamed  of  there  lived  on 
its  site,  one  summer,  a  Thlinkeet,  with  his 
wife  and  mother.  It  was  a  time  of  suffering  and 
hardship,  for  the  fish  stayed  off  the  coast,  the  game 
had  gone  far  over  the  mountains,  and  neither  net, 

199 


Myths  and  Legends 

trap,  nor  arrow  brought  a  morsel  to  the  lodge. 
The  Thlinkeet  fished  and  hunted  all  day  to  no 
effect,  and  he  could  carry  home  nothing  but  an 
occasional  bark  pail  of  berries,  roots,  or  young 
sprouts,  to  boil  for  soup  and  greens.  His  mother, 
who  was  nearly  blind,  and  could  not  see  to  pick 
the  berries,  grew  daily  more  haggard  and  weak, 
whereas  the  wife  kept  fresh  and  strong.  Was  it  a 
dream  that  the  younger  woman  was  eating  every 
night,  and  was  cooking  fish  in  the  lodge  ?  No,  the 
mother's  senses  were  still  sharp.  Waking  and  as- 
suring herself  that  it  was  not  a  dream,  she  feebly 
held  out  her  hands,  crying  for  a  single  morsel. 

"  Your  mind  wanders.  You  were  dreaming. 
There  is  no  food,"  answered  the  wife. 

"  But  I  can  smell  it.  I  see  the  fire.  I  hear  the 
crackle  of  its  skin.  Ha !  Now  I  hear  you 
eating." 

"  No,  I  am  only  chewing  gum  from  the  spruce- 
trees.     It  makes  one  feel  less  hungry." 

"  I  know  you  are  eating  fish.  Give  me  some,  I 
beg." 

'*  Then,  since  you  will  intrude  yourself,  take 
it."  And,  picking  a  tail  and  head  out  of  the  scald- 
ing fat,  she  flung  them  into  the  outheld  hands  and 
shut  the  withered  fingers  over  them  until  the  old 
woman's  palms  were  badly  burned. 

The  starving  one  sobbed  herself  to  sleep.  In 
the  morning  she  whispered  to  her  son  what  had 
happened.     He  said  nothing,  greeted  his  wife  as 

200 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

usual,  and  resolved  to  watch.  On  the  next  night 
when  the  time  was  half-way  to  morning  the  young 
woman  crept  softly  from  the  lodge,  followed  by  her 
husband,  whom  she  supposed  to  be  asleep.  He 
saw  her  cut  an  alder  branch,  after  making  curious 
gestures  before  it,  take  it  to  the  shore,  and  wave  it 
over  the  sea,  repeating  some  words  whose  meaning 
the  listener  did  not  know,  but  which  he  imme- 
diately committed  to  memory.  In  a  moment  the 
water  rippled  with  a  thousand  fins, — a  shoal  of  her- 
ring coming  up  to  be  caught.  The  woman  stooped 
and  plucked  out  two  or  three  of  the  largest,  laughing 
quietly  as  she  gathered  them  in  her  dress  and  tip- 
toed back  to  the  lodge.  Her  husband  managed  to 
reach  it  before  her,  and  was  lying  so  still  when 
she  entered  that  she  never  thought  of  looking  to 
see  if  she  were  watched.  A  fire  was  soon  snap- 
ping ;  the  fish  were  broiling  on  the  coals  and  send- 
ing forth  a  maddening  odor.  The  woman  ate  as 
much  as  she  pleased,  threw  the  rest  into  the 
shrubbery  outside,  and  went  to  bed  content.  Our 
Thlinkeet  was  lucky  on  the  following  afternoon  in 
catching  a  seal  that  yielded  a  particularly  heavy 
fat,  with  which  the  wife  was  so  kindly  plied  at 
supper  that  she  slept  soundly  until  dawn,  her  hus- 
band taking  her  place  as  fish-catcher  at  midnight, 
and,  by  copying  her  incantation,  securing  a  good 
batch  of  herring.  When  the  selfish  wife  awoke 
and  saw  her  husband  and  his  mother  making  an 
ample  breakfast  and  looking  at  her  significantly,  she 

201 


Myths  and  Legends 

smiled  good-naturedly  and  made  an  excuse  for 
quitting  the  lodge.  No  sooner  had  she  gained 
freedom  than  with  all  her  speed  she  ran  toward 
the  mountains,  fearing  pursuit  and  punishment. 
Yes,  her  husband  was  following.  She  climbed  a 
great  boulder  that  lay  in  her  path,  but  as  she 
reached  the  top  her  dress  divided  into  feathers  and 
she  shrank  to  a  twentieth  of  her  size.  She  cried 
in  astonishment  and  alarm,  but  her  voice  had  be- 
come a  hoot.  Her  husband  gained  the  rock, — her 
husband  nevermore :  her  witchcraft  had  reached 
its  end,  and  the  evil  forces  she  had  commanded 
now  commanded  her.  With  a  heavy  flap  of  wing 
she  arose  before  the  face  of  the  Thlinkeet  and  flew 
off"  into  a  wood.     She  was  an  owl. 

THE   GHOST   OF   SITKA   CASTLE 

WHEN  Alaska  was  a  Russian  province  its 
little  capital  of  Sitka  had  sometimes  the 
aspect  of  a  court.  It  was  a  scene  of  gayeties,  war- 
ships anchored  in  its  harbor,  officers,  soldiers,  and 
sailors  brightened  its  few  streets  and  its  gloomy 
BaranofF  castle  with  arms  and  uniforms,  and  social 
life  gained  its  final  charm  when  the  ladies  of  the 
governor's  household  received  the  visiting  military 
and  naval  deputations.  In  those  days  Sitka  was  a 
miniature  St.  Petersburg  in  formalities  and  hospi- 
talities. The  great  samovar,  made  in  the  brass- 
foundry  of  the  town,  was  always  bubbling  in  the 

202 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

castle  drawing-room,  and  tea  was  served  to  every 
guest  by  a  maid  in  the  picturesque  costume  of  the 
Ukraine.  When  Alaska  passed  into  the  possession 
of  the  United  States  the  official  mansion  was  gutted 
by  relic-seeking  vandals,  who  even  pounded  the 
hinges  from  its  doors,  and  it  might  have  been  de- 
stroyed altogether  had  not  an  American  signal- 
officer  insisted  on  setting  apart  two  rooms  for  his 
own  use.  He  half  regretted  his  choice  of  a  resi- 
dence when  the  time  had  come  either  to  disprove  or 
to  verify  certain  rumors  that  had  been  repeated  to 
him  before  he  entered  the  place,  for  on  that  night 
he  surely  heard  the  rustle  of  a  dress  moving  down 
a  corridor,  and  caught  the  perfume  of  wild  roses. 
All  night  long  somebody — something — was  walk- 
ing in  that  corridor, — some  one  in  distress ;  and, 
suddenly  opening  his  door,  he  believed  that  he  saw 
a  woman's  figure  in  a  wedding-gown,  with  phos- 
phorescent gems  in  her  rings,  slowly  twisting  her 
hands  together.  Just  then  the  moon  flashed  from 
behind  a  cloud,  and  no  such  thing  was  there.  It 
must  have  been  an  effect  of  shadow,  he  said  to 
himself.  At  any  time  he  was  likely  to  hear  a 
sound  of  sighing,  or  of  something  moving  sadly, 
wearily,  in  the  other  rooms.  Six  months  after  the 
first  visitation  he  heard  again  the  stir  of  a  dress, 
smelt  the  perfume  of  roses,  saw  a  dim,  faceless 
figure  in  the  hall,  and  until  dawn  faint  sounds 
moved  through  the  castle.  He  gave  up  the  attempt 
to  account  for  these  things.     He  had  argued  that 

203 


Myths  and  Legends 

the  wind  was  blowing  about  the  ruin,  that  it 
brought  a  scent  of  wild  roses  from  the  edge  of  the 
wood,  that  rats  and  mice  were  capering  in  the 
walls,  that  clouds,  moonlight,  starlight,  and  the 
aurora  had  woven  fantastic  pictures.  He  could  de- 
ceive himself  no  longer.  The  place  was  haunted. 
Then  he  gave  a  more  believing  ear  to  the  story 
that  had  been  told  of  the  castle, — how  a  niece  of 
one  of  the  stern  old  governors,  having  been  given 
to  a  man  of  title,  for  whom  she  cared  nothing,  as 
if  she  were  only  merchandise,  was  found  just  after 
the  wedding,  in  one  of  the  rooms,  dead,  in  her 
bridal  robes  and  jewels,  and  wreathed  in  roses. 
Had  she  killed  herself  in  despair  ?  Had  her  hus- 
band killed  her  when  he  learned  that  she  had  a 
lover  ?  Had  her  lover  killed  her  when  he  found 
she  was  not  to  be  his  wife  ?  Had  he,  as  one  rumor 
had  it,  slain  her  at  the  altar  and  drowned  himself 
directly  afterward  ?  Her  lover  was  a  poor  lieu- 
tenant, her  husband  a  prince.  No  one  living  has 
solved  the  mystery. 

A  FATAL   RIVALRY 

THE  transfer  of  Alaska  by  Russia  to  its  new 
owner,  the  United  States,  was  denoted  by 
the  arrival  of  a  small  body  of  American  troops  to 
support  the  official  dignity  at  Sitka.  The  officers 
were  at  once  absorbed  into  the  coterie  that  made 
the  society  of  the  place,  and  two  of  them,  a  cap- 

204 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

tain  and  his  first  lieutenant,  found  in  the  change 
from  the  fairer  districts  of  the  south  no  reason  to 
complain ;  for  among  the  residents  of  the  little 
capital  was  a  Russian  girl  of  title,  high  lineage, 
amiable,  dreamy-eyed,  and  lovely.  Where  mem- 
bers of  the  fair  sex  are  few  and  soldiers  many, 
jealousies  are  sure  to  occur.  The  young  woman 
apparently  liked  the  lieutenant  the  better  of  the 
two ;  he  was  younger,  had  more  polish,  and  was 
finer-looking  than  his  superior,  although  the  cap- 
tain's courage  had  been  tried  on  many  fields,  and 
he  made  a  distinguished  figure  in  his  uniform. 
There  was  little  attempt  on  the  part  of  either  to 
conceal  the  fact  that  he  was  falling  into  a  passionate 
love  for  the  young  countess,  and  that  the  society 
of  his  rival  was  growing  irksome.  Availing  him- 
self of  his  authority,  the  captain  often  assigned 
duties  to  his  second  in  command  that  were  plainly 
invented  for  the  occasion  and  devised  merely  to 
keep  him  at  the  barracks  while  the  captain  was 
prosecuting  a  siege  more  difficult  than  any  he  had 
before  engaged  in.  Possibly  the  countess  was  a 
bit  of  a  flirt,  and  gave  such  slight  encouragement 
to  the  elder  of  her  suitors  as  would  insure  his 
company. 

The  situation  was  sure  to  lead  to  a  rupture  be- 
tween the  two  men,  and  it  was  known  that  hot 
words  had  passed ;  hence  there  was  much  sur- 
prise at  head-quarters  when  both  of  them  returned 
from  a  walk,  one  afternoon,  in  courteous  converse, 

205 


Myths  and  Legends 

and  it  was  understood  that  they  were  going  off  on 
a  hunt  together  in  the  morning.  They  went  up 
Indian  River,  and  were  not  followed.  At  evening 
the  captain  returned,  alone.  He  was  pale  and 
agitated.  His  companion  had  been  gored  by  a 
buck  deer,  he  said,  and  he  had  been  obliged  to 
leave  the  body  where  it  lay.  He  called  on  the 
countess  to  tell  her  of  the  accident,  and  took  a  cup 
of  tea  from  her  hands  before  he  left.  On  reaching 
head-quarters  he  found  that  a  search-party  had  gone 
up  the  river  trail  with  lanterns  to  seek  for  the 
body,  and  his  commanding  officer,  intimating  in 
pretty  plain  terms  his  belief  that  a  duel  had  been 
fought,  advised  him  to  retire  to  his  chambers, 
which  he  did.  Toward  the  middle  of  the  night 
the  soldiers  came  back,  bringing  the  dead  man  on  a 
stretcher.  There  was  a  hole  in  his  chest,  but  it 
had  been  made  by  a  bullet,  and  his  own  rifle  had 
been  found  close  by.  The  captain's  arrest  was 
ordered  at  once.  A  sergeant  and  a  squad  went  to 
his  rooms  and  knocked.  There  was  no  answer. 
The  door  was  forced.  The  captain  lay  propped 
in  bed,  staring  in  horror,  his  jaw  fallen,  his  face 
colorless,  his  hands  clinched  in  agony.  He  had 
been  dead  an  hour.  In  the  official  reports  it  was  said 
that  he  had  died  of  heart  disease  and  the  lieutenant 
had  accidentally  shot  himself;  but  the  common 
belief  was  that  the  Russian  woman  had  put  poison 
in  his  tea,  and  that  in  his  last  moments  he  believed 
that  his  victim  was  standing  at  his  bedside. 

206 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

BAD   BOYS   OF   NA-AS   RIVER 

SOME  mischievous  boys  who  lived  beside  the 
Na-as  River  of  southern  Alaska  were  amusing 
themselves  by  catching  the  young  salmon  in  that 
stream.  They  first  lifted  them  from  the  water  to 
see  them  flop  and  wriggle,  flashing  their  bright 
scales  in  the  sunshine ;  but,  that  sport  growing  too 
tame,  they  took  sharp  stones  and  scratched  and  cut 
the  poor  creatures.  Finally  they  made  wounds  in 
their  backs  and  put  pebbles  into  them,  as  though 
to  find  if  laden  in  this  manner  they  would  sink 
to  the  bottom  and  stay  there.  They  laughed  glee- 
fully as  the  fish  twisted  about  under  the  water  in 
the  attempt  to  get  rid  of  the  burden,  or  floated 
near  the  surface,  gasping  and  exhausted.  All  this 
time  the  Great  Spirit  was  watching  them  with 
stern  displeasure.  Like  children  who  are  not  so 
savage,  the  youngsters  found  the  sport  flagging  as 
their  victims  weakened,  and  they  prodded  the  un- 
happy fish  with  sticks,  and  turned  them  this  way 
and  that  as  they  floated  seaward.  At  last  the  wrath 
of  the  Great  Spectator  could  no  longer  be  kept  in 
bounds.  From  his  seat  on  a  mountain  he  arose. 
He  lifted  the  cover  from  the  peak,  and  the  bubbling 
lava  within  flowed  down  the  side  and  into  the  bed 
of  the  Na-as.  The  fish  rushed  away  to  sea,  but 
the  wicked  boys  were  caught  in  the  flow,  their 
feet  were  burned  off",  they  were  suffocated  in  hot 
ashes,  the  river  itself  was  turned  to  steam.     After 

207 


Myths  and  Legends 

bellowing  and  belching  rebukes  for  a  time,  a  calm 
fell  once  more  ;  but  it  was  on  a  region  of  bereave- 
ment, and  the  Indians  will  at  this  day  show  you 
the  bones  of  the  bad  children  in  the  distorted  lava 
forms  beside  the  Na-as. 


THE   BAFFLED   ICE   GOD 

THIRTY  or  forty  miles  up  the  Stickeen  River, 
in  Alaska,  is  a  glacier  twenty-five  miles 
long  and  five  miles  wide,  a  stupendous  ice  mass, 
that  is  a  part  of  a  bridge  once  flung  across  the 
river.  A  god  of  this  region,  who  had  most  power 
in  winter,  closing  the  smaller  streams,  covering  the 
mountains  with  white,  stripping  foliage  from  the 
trees,  and  cumbering  the  inlets  with  floes,  was 
angry  at  the  spirit  of  the  Stickeen  for  its  refusal  to 
submit  to  the  power  of  the  frost.  As  the  long 
winter  came  on,  brooding  and  threatening,  the  god 
shook  his  spear  of  icicle  in  triumph,  and  began 
bawling  his  orders  in  a  north-wind  voice  that 
roared  and  echoed  from  the  cliffs  and  shook  all  the 
loose  snow  out  of  the  passing  clouds.  The  Stickeen 
went  dancing  and  frolicking  to  the  ocean,  without 
any  notice  of  the  god,  until,  filled  with  wrath  that 
one  child  of  nature  should  disobey  him,  he  gathered 
from  the  mountain-side  great  masses  of  ice  and 
snow  and  flung  them  across  the  stream.  He  could 
not  close  it,  but  he  bridged  it  and  shut  it  from  the 
air  and  sunlight,  and   the  people  who  had  gone  to 

208 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

it  daily  for  fish  were  frightened,  and  asked  its  spirit 
what  could  be  done  to  make  it  free  again.  Crushed 
and  shamed,  the  spirit  made  no  answer,  but  the  god 
cried  in  his  stormiest  voice  that  he  must  have  two 
lives  to  pay  for  this  disobedience,  and  must  have 
them  soon,  or  he  would  visit  his  wrath  on  all  the 
men  who  dwelt  along  the  river. 

An  old  chief  asked  who  among  the  company 
would  make  the  sacrifice, — make  it  by  that  most 
dreaded  death  of  drowning.  His  people  shrank 
away,  and  there  fell  a  silence.  But  presently  a 
young  woman  arose  and  in  faltering  tones  announced 
that  she  would  die  to  save  her  people.  At  this  a 
young  warrior  of  the  tribe  sprang  up  and  cried, 
proudly,  that  he  would  be  the  other  to  make  this 
gift  of  life.  A  canoe  was  brought  to  the  shore, 
sadly  decked  with  flowers  and  carvings  for  the  last 
voyage  of  the  two,  and  they  were  bound  so  that 
they  might  not  attempt  an  escape  when  the  boat 
was  swept  against  the  ice  bridge  and  sucked  into 
the  deeps  below.  Tearful  farewells  were  said,  and 
the  boat  was  pushed  into  the  stream.  As  it  neared 
the  low  arch  of  ice  the  people  turned  aside,  that 
they  might  not  see  the  tragedy.  But  there  was  no 
tragedy.  Pleased  and  touched  by  the  willingness 
of  these  innocent  ones  to  give  their  lives  for  his 
selfish  whim,  the  god  stamped  on  his  new-made 
bridge,  and  a  part  of  it  fell  into  the  water,  leaving 
a  space  through  which  the  boat  was  carried  by  the 
river  manitou  in  safety.  Then  it  swung  to  the 
14  209 


Myths  and  Legends 

shore  and  grounded.  Loud  were  the  cries  of  praise 
and  quick  the  release  of  the  willing  captives,  who 
were  led  back  to  their  camp  in  triumph.  And  the 
god  desisted  from  his  battling  from  that  hour. 


2IO 


Mtjtico 


WHITE   VISITORS    BEFORE   COLUMBUS 

MEXICO  and  the  adjacent  country  enjoyed  a 
civilization  that  must  have  seemed  to  its 
people  something  better  than  the  substitute  offered 
by  the  pale-faced  strangers  who  came  among  them 
carrying  tubes  of  metal  that  uttered  lightnings  and 
thunders  and  slew  by  hundreds,  and  who  stabbed 
and  cursed  and  tortured  and  imprisoned  when  they 
could  not  have  their  way,  and  pillaged  whether 
they  had  it  or  not.  The  shameful  treatment  of 
the  owners  of  the  western  continent  began  in  the 
day  of  Columbus,  and  has  continued  ever  since. 
Long  before  any  permanent  settlement  of  white 
people  on  our  continent,  before  even  the  visits  of 
the  Norsemen,  a  great,  strong,  religious  race,  the 
Mound-Builders,  had  disappeared,  leaving  not  even 
a  name.  Whether  they  had  crossed  the  Atlantic 
or  the  Pacific,  or  had  sprung  from  native  stock,  is 
conjectural.  There  are  Chinese  who  have  built 
mounds,  though  none  on  such  a  scale  as  those  of 
the  central  States  or  the  great  heap  of  Cholula,  and 
none  so  splendidly  adorned  as  those  of  Koh.  It 
was  at  about  the  dawn  of  the  Christian  era  that 
the  Nahuas  entered  Mexico  and  built  houses,  while 
the  Toltecs,  who  followed  them,  erected  temples, 
and   these   the    Aztecs   decorated    with    sculpture. 

213 


Myths  and  Legends 

The  Toltecs  said  that  they  came  from  Atlan,  or 
Aztlan,  which  some  believe  to  have  been  Atlantis. 
The  Mound-Builders  may  have  been  earlier  than 
all  of  these,  and  they  have  left  the  records  of  their 
march,  or  their  retreat,  from  Manitoba  to  the  do- 
main of  Montezuma.  As  the  kingdom  of  peace  had 
not  then  come  upon  the  earth,  it  is  likely  that  this 
great  family,  the  Aryans  of  the  western  world,  the 
people  of  arts  and  gentle  living,  met  their  end  among 
the  deserts  and  snows  beyond  the  Rio  Grande. 

But,  great  as  the  destruction  of  the  red  race  may 
have  been  in  its  intestine  wars,  it  was  not  doomed 
until  the  white  men  landed.  On  the  island  of 
Cozumel,  which  the  Spaniards  took  in  the  middle 
of  the  sixteenth  century,  it  is  reported  that  they 
found  a  population  of  one  hundred  thousand,  and 
half  as  many  others  from  adjacent  lands  yearly 
visited  the  shrines  of  the  sun-god.  Now  but  a 
few  hundred  remain. 

As  among  the  Canadian  tribes,  so  among  the 
Mexicans,  we  have  tokens  of  an  early  teaching  of 
at  least  the  forms  of  Christianity.  The  cross  ap- 
pears in  Aztec  sculpture,  though  not  needfully  as  a 
Christian  symbol.  The  Lower  California  Pericues 
tell  of  Kwahayipe,  son  of  the  lord  of  heaven,  and 
his  wife,  who  lived  in  the  Acaragui  Mountains  and 
brought  men  into  being,  pulling  them  out  of  the 
earth.  Men  killed  him,  put  a  crown  of  thorns 
upon  him,  and  in  a  remote  place  he  lies  to  this 
day,  dripping  fresh   blood  and  uncorrupted.     And 

214 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

the  second  coming  of  a  Messiah  was  so  confidently 
looked  for  that  Montezuma  believed  that  the  great 
white  god  had  returned  when  Cortez  landed. 
Cortez,  forsooth !  This  god,  or  demi-god,  was 
Quetzalcoatl,  "  the  plumed  serpent,"  the  son  of  a 
virgin  in  Tula,  he  whose  symbol  was  the  morning 
star,  bringer  of  light,  and  who  was  worshipped  in 
Cholula.  He  came  from  the  east  to  help  the  human 
race.  He  was  in  many  ways  like  Hayowentha,  or 
Hiawatha,  albeit  a  large,  bearded  man,  wearing 
white  garments  and  a  mitre,  and  red  crosses  were 
painted  on  his  feet.  He  was  a  celibate,  hated  war 
and  sacrifice,  delighted  in  fruits  and  flowers  and 
things  of  natural  beauty,  and  was  constantly  preach- 
ing and  working  for  purity  and  peace.  When, 
through  the  wiles  of  his  dark  enemy,  Tezcatlipoca, 
he  was  driven  away  in  exile,  sailing  eastward  in 
his  snake-skin  boat,  yet  glad  to  meet  the  sun,  he 
promised  to  return  ;  so,  when  Cortez  arrived  the 
Mexicans  hailed  the  strangers  as  brothers  of  the 
plumed  serpent.  Heartless  was  the  violation  of 
this  trust. 

Another  indication  of  early  visits  of  white  men 
to  this  land  is  found  in  a  legend  told  among  the 
Indians  of  Colombia,  to  the  effect  that  Bohica,  a 
bearded  white  man,  appeared  to  the  Mozcas  on  the 
Bogota  plains  and  taught  them  farming,  building, 
draining,  and  civil  government  before  he  retired  to 
a  hermitage  for  two  thousand  years.  Like  him 
was    Manco    Capac,  who  with   his   sister,   Mama 

215 


Myths  and  Legends 

Oello,  gave  laws  and  arts  to  the  Peruvians  before 
returning  to  the  Sun,  his  father ;  like  him  were 
Kukulkan  of  Yucatan,  and  Bochica  of  the  Mu- 
yscas. 

When  the  Spaniards  invested  Bogota  they  guarded 
the  roads,  so  as  to  cut  off  the  chance  of  escape  and 
intercept  any  approach  of  reinforcements.  The 
savage  men-at-arms  soon  had  the  city  in  their  power, 
the  natives  having  been  awed  by  the  thunder  and 
murder  of  their  guns  into  the  belief  that  the 
Spaniards  were  invincible.  The  invaders  as  they 
entered  found  the  people  either  attempting  flight 
or  extended  along  the  streets  in  supplication  ;  but, 
paying  little  attention  to  them,  save  when  it  was 
necessary  to  beat  back  a  threatening  band,  they 
pressed  on  toward  the  centre  of  the  town,  from 
which  a  great  smoke  was  rising,  for  here  they 
knew  was  the  temple,  and  here  they  hoped  to  find 
treasure.  The  sound  of  a  solemn  chant  arose 
within,  and  as  they  came  clattering  and  shouting  to 
the  door,  the  people,  in  a  frenzy  at  their  intended 
sacrilege,  made  one  last  and  vain  attempt  to  stay 
them.  Benalcazar  and  his  men  rushed  in.  Be- 
fore the  statue  of  a  grim  god  a  funeral  pyre  had 
been  reared,  and  the  flames  were  snapping  over  it. 
Gums  and  spices  had  been  thrown  upon  the  logs, 
and  the  smoke  was  choking  in  its  fragrance.  Ves- 
sels of  gold  had  been  heaped  in  a  corner,  ready  to 
carry  out  or  to  hide,  and  the  eyes  of  the  Spaniards 
fastened    on    them    greedily ;     but    as    the    smoke 

216 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

swung  aside  the  leader  saw  what  made  him  pause. 
Three  white  men,  not  Spaniards,  nor  like  them, 
stepped  upon  the  brands,  still  chanting,  their  look 
turned  skyward,  their  hands  raised  high.  Long 
beards  flowed  upon  their  breasts,  and  their  rich 
gowns  were  heavy  with  gems  and  gold.  Without 
look  or  word  for  the  intruders,  these  men  of  a  race 
unknown  went  calmly  to  their  death. 

THE   WHITE   GOD 

WHOEVER  he  was,  whatever  he  was,  or 
whatever  it  was,  the  white  god  of  Mexico 
made  possible  the  conquest  of  the  Aztecs.  Noth- 
ing but  a  belief  that  Cortez  might  be  this  Messiah 
admitted  his  little  army  into  the  heart  of  a  land 
of  haughty,  suspicious,  if  not  hostile  people  who 
outnumbered  his  force  a  thousand  to  one.  Much 
is  due  to  the  craft  and  diplomacy  of  the  invader, 
much  to  his  downright  courage,  much  to  the  awe 
created  by  his  horses  and  his  thundering  arms  ;  but 
these  alone  did  not  conquer  the  subjects  of  Mon- 
tezuma. The  Aztecs  were  victims  of  false  hopes. 
In  the  year  1121  Bishop  Eric  left  Iceland  for 
America,  which  Leif  the  Lucky  had  found  over  a 
hundred  years  before,  and  never  was  Eric  heard  of 
afterward.  May  it  not  be  that,  repelled  by  the 
desolate  aspect  of  the  northern  lands,  or  driven  by 
lasting  winds,  or  misled  by  vague  reports  as  to  the 
new  continent,  or  lured  along   by  the   increasing 

217 


Myths  and  Legends 

warmth  and  fertility  as  his  vessel  coasted  south- 
ward, Eric  reached  Mexico,  and,  finding  its  people 
tractable  and  intelligent,  began  teaching  the  doc- 
trines in  whose  earnest  promulgation  he  had  found 
his  life-work  and  won  his  bishopric?  One  myth 
sets  forth  that  a  white  man  with  a  hooded  robe  and 
long  beard,  carrying  a  cross,  landed  at  Tehuantepec, 
on  the  Pacific  side  of  Mexico,  and  urged  the  In- 
dians to  perform  penance  for  their  sins,  make  con- 
fession, and  take  vows  of  chastity.  In  another 
version  he  carries  a  sickle,  condemns  all  sacrifices 
except  of  fruit  and  flowers,  teaches  arts,  including 
gem-cutting  and  metal-casting,  invents  letters  and 
a  calendar,  and  when  there  is  talk  of  war  puts 
his  fingers  into  his  ears.  The  Christian  faith,  or 
something  like  it,  was  taught  to  these  people  long 
before  the  arrival  of  the  Spaniards,  and  some  of 
their  arts  may  have  had  their  rise  in  the  instructions 
of  the  Norsemen.  For  the  southern  tribes  were 
expert  in  many  ways.  They  had  phonogrammic 
writing,  as  well  as  pictographs,  they  knew  the 
metals,  they  made  splendid  cloaks  of  feathers,  they 
adorned  their  helmets  with  precious  stones,  they 
wove  cotton  and  dyed  it  gorgeously,  quilting  it, 
too,  for  armor.  Something  like  a  mail  and  express 
service  was  furnished  by  a  corps  of  royal  mes- 
sengers, who  carried  picture-writings  and  goods, 
running  at  top  speed  along  the  fair  roads,  and  re- 
lieving each  other  of  messages  and  burdens  at  post- 
houses.     By  this  means  the  emperor  kept  in  touch 

218 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

with  all  parts  of  his  kingdom,  and  enjoyed  many 
luxuries  that  we  are  used  to  think  of  as  modern. 
He  ate  fish  at  his  dinners  that  twenty-four  hours 
before  had  been  swimming  in  the  Gulf  of  Mexico. 
Many  of  the  arts  and  benefits  of  Aztec  civilization 
were  the  probable  inventions  of  the  people,  how- 
ever. They  did  not  know  the  use  of  steel,  which 
Eric  would  have  taught  them,  but  employed  ob- 
sidian, or  volcanic  glass,  for  their  knives,  weapons, 
and  utensils.  It  is  said  by  the  Indians  of  the 
Andes  that  they  once  had  the  art  of  softening  gold 
by  steeping  it  in  some  liquid,  so  that  they  were 
able  to  work  it  into  any  desired  form,  after  which 
it  would  harden  •  and,  curiously,  among  the  gold 
ornaments  found  in  graves  and  ruins  some  bear 
finger-prints.  More  of  the  metal  was  wrought 
with  hammers  and  chisels,  and  the  great  golden 
shield,  worth  two  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  dol- 
lars, that  Montezuma  sent  to  Cortez, — a  shield  like 
a  cart-wheel, — was  richly  ornamented  with  carv- 
ings. Precious  metals  were  abundant.  The  skele- 
ton of  an  Inca  found  in  Chili  in  1854  was  wrapped 
in  a  sheet  of  gold.  Much  that  might  have  been 
learned  of  this  strange  people  is  hopelessly  lost, 
for  nearly  all  the  picture-manuscripts  of  their 
schools  were  destroyed  by  the  Spaniards,  who  be- 
lieved that  they  were  compacts  with  the  devil  and 
would  work  magic. 

Thinking  how  long  a  time  elapsed   between  the 
voyages  of  Eric  and  Cortez,  it  appears  likely  that 

219 


Myths  and  Legends 

many  of  the  arts  and  beliefs  which  may  have  been 
taught  by  the  former  suffered  a  change,  and  that 
his  personality  should  have  been  merged  in  that  of 
Quetzalcoatl,  the  god  of  the  air,  one  of  the  thirteen 
principal  gods  of  the  nation.  There  were  over 
two  hundred  others.  In  his  temple  at  Cholula 
were  two  elders,  one  wearing  for  his  totem  a  tiger, 
the  other  an  eagle,  and  here  also  was  a  monastery, 
the  inmates  being  bound  to  the  duty  of  praying 
before  the  statue  of  this  god  for  rain,  health,  and 
peace.  The  novices  wore  black  capes  for  four 
years,  then  one  of  black  and  red  for  other  four, 
then  for  the  same  term  a  black  one  with  red 
border,  again  the  black  and  red,  then  black,  and  in 
their  age,  red.  They  were  allowed  to  visit  their 
wives  until  midnight,  when  they  were  summoned 
to  return  by  blasts  of  a  trumpet.  The  same  in- 
strument sounded  for  prayers  at  daybreak  and  at 
sunset. 

Before  leaving  the  country  to  which  he  had 
brought  prosperity,  this  god,  who  was  white, 
bearded,  and  unlike  an  Aztec,  promised  to  return 
with  his  children.  He  had  incurred  the  anger  of  a 
brother  god,  and  Mexico  was  no  longer  a  pleasant 
land  to  him ;  so  he  walked  to  the  sea,  carving 
crosses  on  the  rocks  as  he  went,  entered  his  magic 
boat  of  snake-skin,  and  floated  away  to  his  own  cool 
country  of  Tlapalan,  leaving  his  people  mournful. 
Some  of  them  reported  that  he  had  died,  that  his 
ashes  had  been  carried  to  heaven  by  brilliant  birds, 

220 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

and  that  his  heart  became  the  morning  star.  This 
luminary  descended  into  hell  for  four  days,  then 
reappeared,  more  brilliant  than  ever,  as  the  seat  of 
the  departed  god.  The  Aztecs  soon  forgot  his 
gentler  teachings,  at  all  events,  for  they  restored 
human  sacrifice,  even  at  his  altar,  cutting  out  the 
heart  of  their  victim,  holding  it  to  the  sun,  then 
throwing  it  before  the  image  of  the  god  or  spirit 
that  was  the  tutelary  genius  of  the  temple.  After 
this  they  ate  the  corpse.  At  the  dedication  of  the 
temple  of  Huitzilopochtli  in  i486  about  seventy 
thousand  captives  were  slain  to  appease  the  deities. 
Is  it  any  wonder  that  the  consciences  of  the  people 
were  troubled  ?  that  they  asked  one  another  if  the 
white  god  would  praise  them,  when  he  came  back, 
for  turning  their  temples  into  shambles  ?  Signs 
and  wonders  made  them  doubt  afresh  at  the  begin- 
ning of  the  sixteenth  century.  Eight  years  before 
the  arrival  of  Cortez  the  lake  arose,  without  rain 
or  earthquake,  flooding  the  city  of  Mexico,  sweep- 
ing away  houses  and  drowning  many  people.  Next 
year  a  tower  of  the  temple  took  fire,  without  vis- 
ible cause,  and  none  could  put  it  out.  Three 
comets  were  seen,  and  a  vast  pyramid  of  light  stood 
in  the  east.  Voices  were  heard  grieving  and  whin- 
ing in  the  air.  A  royal  princess  died,  and  came 
out  of  her  grave  to  prophesy  ruin.  An  Indian  was 
snatched  from  his  field  work  by  an  eagle,  and  car- 
ried to  a  cave  where  a  spirit  told  him  of  coming 
doom,  after  which  the  bird  flew  back  with  him 

221 


Myths  and  Legends 

and  delivered  him  safely  to  the  earth  where  the 
church  of  San  Hipolito  now  stands.  The  king  of 
Tezcuco,  who  was  an  astrologer,  was  asked  to  give 
comfort,  but  could  find  no  promise  of  it  in  the 
stars.  No  wonder,  then,  that  when  Cortez  landed, 
in  panoply  and  with  ceremony,  the  people  kissed 
the  boats  that  brought  him,  believing  that  the  white 
god  was  come  again  ;  while  others  thought  upon  the 
prophecies,  and  feared  that  here  was  a  white  devil. 
According  to  Father  Sahagun,  the  white  king- 
god  had  of  old  a  temple  in  Tula,  and  his  image  was 
placed  there,  lying  extended  under  blankets.  His 
worshippers  were  expert  mechanics  and  masons  : 
they  carved  the  green  stone  chalchiuite,  and  had 
foundries  for  metals.  In  his  honor  they  built 
houses  of  silver,  chalchiuite,  turquoise,  sea-shells, 
and  wood,  and  covered  them  with  feathers.  On 
the  mount  of  Tzatzitepetl  the  god  spoke  to  his 
people  through  a  stentorian  prophet  whose  voice 
was  heard  three  hundred  miles  away  in  Anahuac. 
He  never  spoke  save  wisely,  and  by  obeying  him 
the  people  thrived.  They  had  maize  in  abundance, 
an  ear  of  it  being  all  that  a  man  could  carry, 
pumpkins  were  two  feet  thick,  cotton-bolls  opened 
in  a  dozen  colors,  and  the  birds  repaid  kind  treat- 
ment by  filling  Tula's  streets  with  color  and  music. 
Still,  Quetzalcoatl  had  his  bad  hours,  and  he  did 
penance  for  his  weaknesses  by  drawing  blood  from 
his  legs  with  maguey  spines.  Once,  when  he  was 
ill,  the  evil  god  Tezcatlipoca  presented  himself  as 

222 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

an  elderly  man  who  had  a  cure  for  his  pain  of 
body  and  heaviness  of  spirit,  a  water  of  eternal 
life,  and,  tasting  the  mixture,  Quetzalcoatl  was  so 
pleased  that  he  drained  it  all,  and  thereupon 
became  drunk,  for  this  cure  was  wine  that  stole 
the  sense  and  weakened  the  will,  so  that  in  the 
end  the  mischief-lover  gained  his  wish.  Quetzal- 
coatl quickly  grew  old,  and  set  off  for  Tlapalan, 
weeping  bitterly,  after  burying  or  destroying  his 
treasures.  His  people  followed  him,  playing  on 
flutes,  till  within  six  miles  of  the  site  of  Mexico 
city,  where  he  rested  on  a  stone,  leaving  hand- 
prints and  tear-marks  on  it  that  may  still  be  seen. 
He  threw  his  jewels  into  the  fountain  of  Coaapan, 
and  rested  from  the  persecution  of  his  enemies  for 
twenty  years  at  Cholula.  In  crossing  the  moun- 
tains on  his  way  to  the  sea  his  dwarfed  and  hump- 
backed servants  died  of  cold,  but  four  lads  of  noble 
birth  followed  him  to  Coatzacoalco,  where  he 
parted  with  them,  after-making  his  prophecy  of  the 
coming  of  the  new  race,  and  sailed  for  Tlapalan. 

The  wondrous  success  of  Cortez's  march  to 
the  capital  made  it  seem  to  the  subject  tribes 
more  certain  that  it  was  the  god  who  had  returned. 
He  sent  his  soldiers  into  the  temples  and  to  the 
tops  of  the  pyramids,  to  throw  down  the  statues 
of  the  gods  that  stood  there,  and  this  he  did,  they 
argued,  because  those  gods  had  wronged  him  be- 
fore he  went  away.  As  the  great  figures  came 
tumbling  down  the  slopes  and  stairs  the  people  fell 

223 


Myths  and  Legends 

and  cried  in  fear,  lest  the  wrath  of  the  deities  who 
looked  out  of  the  clouds  and  saw  this  insult  to 
their  images  should  be  visited  on  the  multitude. 
Cortez  placed  wooden  virgins  and  saints  on  the 
pedestals  thus  vacated,  and  the  Indians  never  en- 
treated these  new  divinities  so  rudely.  At  Tlascala 
the  people  refused  to  destroy  their  idols,  as  they 
were  called,  but  were  willing  to  add  those  of  the 
Christians  to  their  number.  A  cross  was  erected 
in  one  of  their  squares,  where  the  invaders  were 
allowed  to  celebrate  mass  without  interference,  and 
all  night  a  cloud  hovered  over  this  cross,  shedding 
light  upon  it, — a  phenomenon  that  decided  the 
Indians  to  be  converted.  At  last,  in  Mexico, 
Montezuma,  once  the  splendid  emperor,  now  the 
stricken  captive,  affected  to  believe  that  the  men 
who  had  repaid  his  thousand  favors  with  imprison- 
ment, pillage,  and  indignity  were  children  of  the 
white  god,  and  he  asked  his  people  to  befriend 
them.  As  Cortez  sat  beneath  the  Tree  of  Dismal 
Night  and  wept  in  the  time  of  his  besetment,  did 
he  think  it  worth  while  to  pose  longer  as  a  god? 
And  when  they  picked  their  way  among  the  gory 
corpses  of  their  friends  and  children,  did  the  Mexi- 
cans believe  that  any  god  could  be  like  Cortez? 


224 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

SPIRITUAL   GUIDANCE 

IN  no  part  of  the  world  has  the  Church  ruled 
more  absolutely  than  in  Mexico.  The  igno- 
rance and  barbarism  of  the  natives  made  them  de- 
sirable subjects  for  conversion,  and  also  made  them 
easy  to  control,  once  they  had  passed  under  priestly 
sway.  Long  after  civilized  protest  had  put  a  stop 
to  the  horrors  of  the  Spanish  Inquisition  it  re- 
mained a  power  in  Mexico,  "  the  strong  fort  and 
mount  of  Zion,"  as  the  abomination  was  called, 
continuing  until  this  century.  In  the  city  of 
Mexico  its  victims  were  roasted  alive  near  the 
church  of  San  Diego,  and  a  monument  has  been 
raised  to  the  renown  of  Morelos,  its  kst  victim, 
who  was  put  to  death  in  1815. 

In  order  to  spread  the  faith  and  enlarge  their 
temporal  power  the  spiritual  authorities  gave  cur- 
rency to  many  tales  that  in  other  parts  of  the  world 
would  at  once  have  been  laughed  down  as  mythical  ; 
but  they  doubtless  had  their  uses.  The  defeat  of 
American  troops  at  Monterey,  in  the  unjust  war 
of  conquest  waged  against  our  neighbor  people, 
was  ascribed,  not  to  lead,  steel,  numbers,  or  gen- 
eralship, but  solely  to  Our  Lady  of  Guadalupe, 
who  hovered  over  the  Mexicans  during  the  battle, 
seeking  out  weak  points  in  the  invading  army  and 
advising  the  Mexican  officers  where  and  how  to 
strike. 

Every  year,  in  October,  crowds  of  people  go  to 
15  225- 


Myths  and  Legends 

dismal  Mitla,  with  presents  for  the  priests,  that  the 
good  fathers  may  be  persuaded  to  renew  their 
prayers  and  masses  for  the  deliverance  of  their 
ancestors  who  died  in  sin  before  the  conquest,  and 
whose  souls  are  haunting  the  ruins.  Probably  a 
great  cemetery  once  existed  in  Mitla. 

Though  we  have  a  dim  tradition  that  the  Aztecs 
saw  spirits  hovering  over  the  site  of  Puebla,  the 
circumstance  did  not  impress  them,  for  they  took 
no  action  upon  it.  It  was  not  until  after  the  con- 
quest that  Puebla  came  into  being, — not  the  Puebla 
de  Zaragosa,  as  it  is  called  to-day,  but  the  Puebla 
de  los  Angeles  :  city  of  the  angels.  For  strategic, 
commercial,  and  other  reasons  a  town  was  needed 
between  the  city  of  Mexico,  of  which  the  Spaniards 
had  none  too  secure  a  tenure,  and  the  port  of  Vera 
Cruz,  which  gave  them  touch  with  the  other  col- 
onies and  Spain.  On  the  Bishop  of  Tlascala  they 
imposed  the  task  of  fixing  a  site.  He  thereupon 
dreamed  of  a  beautiful  plain,  edged  by  white- 
topped  peaks,  and  as  he  looked  two  angels  came 
into  his  sight  who,  with  rod  and  chain,  set  about  the 
work  of  laying  off  streets.  So  vivid  was  his  dream 
that  when  he  searched  for  the  spot  he  recognized 
it  immediately  on  his  arrival,  and  there  was  built 
one  of  the  fairest  of  the  cities  of  the  south  ;  almost 
the  only  large  one  not  erected  on  Aztec  ruins. 

Early  in  the  period  of  Spanish  rule  a  chief  near 
Queretaro,  who  had  adopted  Christianity,  was 
persuaded  that   it  was  his  mission  to  convert   an 

226 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

adjacent  tribe  to  the  same  faith.  Lest  the  pros- 
pective converts  should  object,  he  took  with  him 
an  army,  copying  the  spiritual  methods  of  the 
Spaniards  in  that  respect,  and  on  reaching  Quere- 
taro  he  commanded  his  neighbors  to  pick  out  their 
strongest  men  and  he  would  fight  them, — that  is, 
an  equal  number  of  his  strongest  men  would  do 
so.  The  challenged  people  had  no  occasion  to  en- 
gage with  him,  but  he  insisted  that  they  should, 
and  told  them  in  advance  that  if  his  side  won  the 
other  side  must  become  Christians,  whereas  if  the 
pagans  were  the  victors  he  would  go  home  and 
leave  them  to  their  idols.  The  trouble  was  finally 
agreed  upon,  and  it  shows  an  already  benign  in- 
fluence in  the  new  faith  that  the  fight  was  to  be 
without  weapons,  the  combatants  agreeing  to  kick 
and  pound  instead  of  slaying  each  other.  It  was  a 
long  and  bloody  battle,  and  was  waged  in  the  space 
between  the  armies,  that  cheered  and  prayed  and 
advised,  as  lookers-on  will  always  do,  even  in  a  base- 
ball game.  We  do  not  know  what  the  result  might 
have  been,  but  there  is  a  suspicion  that  the  unre- 
generate  were  getting  the  better  of  it,  else  why 
did  the  heavens  open  and  the  blessed  Saint  Iago 
show  himself  there,  with  a  red  cross  in  his  hand  ? 
In  presence  of  this  vision  the  converted  chief  be- 
came complacently  triumphant,  and  the  idolaters 
ran  to  the  Spanish  priests,  flung  themselves  at  their 
feet,  and  begged  to  be  baptized  and  saved  from  the 
figure  in  the  air.     A  stone  cross  was  erected  under 

227 


Myths  and  Legends 

the  spot  where  Saint  Iago  appeared,  and  if  any- 
body doubts  the  tale  he  is  taken  to  the  Church  of 
the  Holy  Cross,  where  this  relic  is  kept,  and  it  is 
shown  to  him  in  proof. 

Another  appearance  of  this  saint  was  during  the 
battle  that  Cortez  waged  against  one  hundred  and 
fifty  thousand  (!)  Tabascans.  To  the  terrific  aspect 
of  this  heavenly  champion,  as  he  swooped  upon 
the  savages,  mounted  on  a  gray  horse,  is  attributed 
the  victory.  One  monkish  writer  insists  that  it 
was  not  the  saint  that  made  this  charge,  but  "  the 
ever-present  Virgin."  Cortez  returned  thanks  to 
heaven,  and  he  baptized  the  twenty  women  that  the 
beaten  tribe  had  given  up,  before  turning  them 
over  to  his  soldiers  to  be  fought  for.  One  of 
these  women,  Marina,  who  became  the  mistress  of 
Cortez,  his  spy  and  interpreter,  was  the  first  con- 
vert to  Christianity  on  the  American  continent. 
A  statue  has  been  erected  to  her  in  Puebla. 

It  has  been  feared  that  in  some  parts  of  Mexico 
the  natives  are  church  people  for  revenue  mainly, 
or  that  they  go  to  church  to  avoid  trouble  and 
rebuke,  and  this  is  known  to  be  the  case  in  some 
of  the  South  American  states,  the  Indians  of 
Peru,  for  instance,  being  pretty  fair  Christians 
while  the  white  men  are  looking,  though  they  are 
sun-worshippers  at  other  times.  In  Yucatan  the 
natives  have  been  known  to  go  to  church  under 
compulsion  of  the  lash.  In  Cholula  the  barbarian 
practice  of  providing  food,  rum,  and  woman's  milk 

228 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

for  the  dead  is  continued  if  the  vigilance  of  the 
priests  can  be  avoided,  while  a  rod  is  buried  with 
every  dead  girl,  that  she  may  beat  off  the  mon- 
sters that  will  assail  her  on  the  road  to  paradise. 
There  are  caves  in  the  ridge  between  Popocatepetl 
and  Iztaccihuatl  in  which  are  old  stone  statues 
which  are  still  secretly  worshipped,  their  public 
recognition  being  prohibited.  One  of  these  caves 
is  alleged  by  believers  to  be  the  opening  of  a  long 
passage  under  the  sea,  that  leads  to  Rome,  probably 
that  good  Indians  may  go  there  to  be  blessed, 
after  death.  Yet  this  was  a  home  of  evil  spirits 
before  Cortez  came,  and  the  people  told  the 
Spaniards  that  no  man  could  reach  the  top  of 
Popocatepetl  and  live.  Diego  Ordaz  climbed  as 
far  as  the  snow-line,  and  Francisco  Montano 
reached  the  top  and  was  lowered  into  the  crater, 
that  he  might  gather  sulphur  for  powder,  which 
was  sorely  needed ;  but  the  natives  apparently 
believed  that  these  soldiers  were  bragging. 

Many  old  beliefs  have  disappeared,  like  those  in 
the  giant  with  long,  lean  arms  who  embraced  and 
smothered  the  whole  Toltec  tribe  ;  the  spectre  of 
a  white  child  who  followed  him  about,  and  from 
whose  decaying  head  noxious  gases  spread  over  the 
country  as  it  sat  on  a  tall  peak, — a  possible  myth 
of  volcanic  eruption  ;  and  the  Titans  who  built 
the  pyramid  of  Cholula ;  but  Miquiztli,  the  dead 
man,  and  the  crying  white  woman,  Iztaccihuatl, 
walk  in  the  villages  of  these  Indians,  while   their 

229 


Myths  and  Legends 

sorcerers  change  themselves  to  animals  at  will,  and 
their  medicine-men  practise  their  art  almost  as  it 
was  practised  before  the  conquest.  The  people 
are  more  peaceable  than  they  were,  more  courteous, 
yet  more  secretive. 

Izamal  was  a  city  of  four  mounds,  the  largest 
one  hundred  and  fifty  feet  high,  with  a  temple  on 
its  top  where  old  men  preached  and  burned  copal 
before  the  statues  to  make  a  pleasant  smell.  Here, 
every  day  at  noon,  the  "fiery  macaw  with  sun 
eyes"  lighted  the  fire  at  the  altar.  It  has  been 
hinted  that  concave  mirrors  focussing  their  rays  on 
the  tinder  kindled  the  flames.  However  that  may 
be,  the  mounds  and  temples,  having  been  declared 
sinful  by  the  Spaniards,  were  ruined,  and  the  people 
were  forced  to  support  the  church  and  monastery 
that  were  presently  built  in  the  place.  This  they 
did  more  willingly  when  they  found  that  the  Vir- 
gin's statue  in  the  church  would  cure  diseases. 
The  images  of  their  old  gods  had  done  that  too, 
but  not  so  well ;  and  when  a  new  statue  of  the 
Virgin  arrived  from  Guatemala,  through  the  rain, 
the  priest  convinced  them  of  heaven's  blessing  on 
it,  for  not  a  drop  had  fallen  on  the  box  containing 
the  figure,  nor  on  those  who  carried  it.  In  order 
to  gain  the  complete  confidence  of  the  Indians,  the 
Spaniards  had  to  represent  that  the  Virgin  was  a 
brown  woman  who  wore  an  Indian  dress. 


230 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

EAGLE,  SNAKE,  AND  CACTUS 

THE  great  plaza  of  the  city  of  Mexico  is  the 
country's  heart.  It  was  here  that  in  13 12 
the  Aztecs,  who  had  been  conducting  an  Israelitish 
pilgrimage  for  seven  hundred  years,  marching  south- 
ward after  their  birth  in  the  Seven  Caves  of  Chi- 
comoztoc,  saw  the  sign  that  had  been  revealed  to 
their  astrologers  that  was  to  show  where  they  were 
to  plant  their  capital.  Here  was  a  lake  ;  in  the 
lake,  where  now  is  the  zocalo,  was  a  rocky  island ; 
on  the  island  was  a  cactus ;  on  the  cactus  was  an 
eagle,  his  great  wings  spread  toward  the  sun  j  in 
his  beak  and  talons  was  a  snake.  The  sign  was 
hailed  with  cries  of  rejoicing,  and  the  foundation 
of  a  great  city  was  begun,  a  huge  teocalli,  or 
temple,  being  the  first  structure  to  be  erected.  As 
it  happened,  the  prophets  were  frauds.  There 
never  was  a  worse  place  to  put  a  town  upon  than 
where  Mexico  stands.  It  is  in  a  basin,  only  six  feet 
above  its  lowest  part ;  it  has  no  natural  drainage  ; 
the  houses  had  to  be  built  on  piles;  the  soil  is  not 
rich ;  it  is  in  danger  from  floods,  in  the  seventeenth 
century  it  was  not  dry  for  five  consecutive  years, 
people  went  through  its  streets  in  boats,  and  the 
dampness  has  caused  malarial  disorders  ;  but  ex- 
pensive public  works  have  secured  dryness  and 
health  and  in  the  high,  cool  region,  in  the  bright 
sunshine,  with  snow-covered  volcanoes  heaved  into 
sight,  with  modern  devices  for   beauty  and  com- 

231 


Myths  and  Legends 

fort,  Mexico  is  in  many  ways  an  ideal  city.  If  it 
were  to  be  built  again  it  would  be  in  accordance 
with  the  plans  of  engineers  and  sanitarians,  not  of 
prophets.  Still,  the  settlers  were  so  well  satisfied 
that  they  adopted  the  eagle,  snake,  and  cactus  as 
their  totem,  and  they  remain  to-day  as  the  coat  of 
arms  of  the  republic. 

Mexicans  will  tell  you  that  this  basin  was  the 
earliest  home  of  man  in  the  Western  world  ;  maybe 
in  all  the  world.  Here  were  settlements  of  the 
Ulmeca  early  in  the  Christian  era,  if  not  before 
its  beginning;  then,  in  a.d.  635,  came  the  Chi- 
chimecs,  who  were  routed  by  the  Toltecs  that 
came  over  the  great  hill  of  Tulla  in  648  and  built 
a  city  there ;  and  the  Aztecs  arrived  in  the  year 
890.  Here  for  six  centuries  it  has  been  the  capi- 
tal, where  the  cacique,  or  native  chief,  the  Spanish 
conqueror,  the  viceroy,  the  emperor,  the  dictator, 
and  the  president  have  ruled  or  served  the  people. 
The  Aztecs  were  a  soldier  folk,  hence  the  name 
they  gave  to  it  commemorates  their  war-god, 
Mexitli.  On  the  site  of  the  rocky  island  the 
invader,  Cortez,  fought  the  last  battle  with  Quauh- 
temotzin,  and  for  three  centuries  the  victory  was 
celebrated  by  processions.  Here  occurred  the 
famine  riot  of  1692,  when  three  million  dollars' 
worth  of  property  was  wrecked  and  burned ;  here 
stood  the  gallows,  and  before  the  viceroy's  palace 
was  a  frame  on  which  criminals'  heads  were  placed  ; 
here  functionaries  took  the  oath  of  office  ;  but  now 

232 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

the  band  plays  and  people  take  the  air  on  the  spot 
where  the  sign  of  their  liberties  was  seen. 


TOLD    IN    YUCATAN 

LONG  before  the  Spaniards  knew  that  there 
was  a  Western  world  to  conquer,  a  people 
occupied  the  tropic  belt  of  the  Americas  who,  at 
the  time  that  the  palaces  and  temples  of  Central 
America  were  erected,  were  the  equals  of  those  same 
Spaniards  in  civilization.  These  people  were  archi- 
tects and  sculptors,  they  knew  the  use  of  metal,  they 
embalmed  and  entombed  their  dead,  they  had  roads; 
they  had,  moreover,  a  government,  a  religion,  a 
writing,  and  they  built  the  great  cities  whose  ruins, 
even  where  overgrown  by  the  dense  forests  of  the 
lowlands,  are  not  less  surprising  than  those  of 
Egypt  and  Assyria.  One  enthusiastic  antiquary, 
who  spent  some  years  among  the  long  lost  and 
newly  found  cities  of  Yucatan,  believes  that  he  has 
verified  much  ancient  history  as  a  possession  of  our 
own.  He  says  that  the  garden  of  Eden  is  in 
Mexico,  the  tomb  of  Abel  in  Yucatan,  with  in- 
scriptions on  it  recounting  the  tragedy, — carved 
possibly  by  Cain, — and  that  from  this  birthplace 
of  the  human  race  the  Old  World  was  peopled. 
Egypt,  he  says,  was  colonized  from  Yucatan,  the 
Egyptian  mummies  were  carried  to  Africa  from 
America,  the  Sphinx  was  a  monument  to  Abel, 
erected  by  his  widow,  and  the  Greek  alphabet  was 

233 


Myths  and  Legends 

an  account,  in  Yucatan  hieroglyphics,  of  the  sinking 
of  the  continent  of  Atlantis.  The  fierce  Quiches, 
who  have  inherited  from  their  ancestors  of  the 
sixteenth  century  a  hatred  of  Europeans,  or  "  white 
monkeys,"  are  thought  to  keep  alive  the  language 
of  the  ancient  Mayas,  which  is  as  old  as  the 
Sanskrit,  if  not  older,  and  is  believed  to  be  allied 
to  that  of  the  ancient  Egyptians,  the  picture-writ- 
ing of  the  two  families  showing  many  things  in 
common. 

Yucatan  is  a  Mayax  word,  meaning  "  first  land," 
and  the  country  reached  from  Tehuantepec  to 
Darien.  The  word  maya  occurs  in  many  Asian, 
African,  and  European  tongues,  where  it  always 
expresses  strength  and  wisdom,  and  in  certain  of 
the  relics  bearded  men,  like  Assyrians,  are  repre- 
sented as  visiting  Uxmal  and  Chichinitza,  big  cities 
that  drew  to  them  scholars  from  all  over  the 
country.  The  story  of  Cain  and  Abel  occurs  in 
Egyptian  tradition  and  in  the  Sanskrit  poem  Rama- 
yana  in  such  a  form  as  to  assimilate  it  to  the  Maya 
legend  that  the  two  sons  of  King  Kan  (or  King 
Snake)  fell  out  on  a  question  of  prestige,  and 
Prince  Aak  (The  Turtle)  stabbed  his  brother  Koh 
(The  Leopard),  who  was  embalmed,  all  but  his 
heart,  which  was  cremated  and  placed  in  an  urn, 
together  with  the  stone  spear-head  that  did  the 
murder.  Some  say  that  the  statue  of  the  slain  prince 
is  to  be  seen  in  the  national  museum  of  Mexico, 
where  it  is  labelled  Chakmool,  the  sun  god.     After 

234 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

this  untoward  event  the  assassin,  a  veritable  Richard 
III.  of  his  day,  laid  a  vain  siege  to  the  heart  of  the 
dead  man's  widow,  Moo  (Macaw),  his  own  sister, 
by  the  way,  the  Mayax  royal  families,  like  those 
of  Egypt,  being  resolved  to  keep  their  blood  free 
from  plebeian  stain ;  and  a  wall-painting  shows 
Prince  Aak  with  his  serpent  totem,  tempting  the 
woman  with  fruit  from  a  tree  in  which  perches  a 
monkey,  representing  wisdom.  Queen  Moo  raised 
a  statue  to  the  departed,  the  figure  of  a  leopard 
with  three  stab-wounds  in  the  back ;  and  on  going 
to  Egypt  afterward,  she  had  the  workmen  of  that 
empire  raise  a  statue  to  his  memory,  that  took  the 
shape  of  the  Sphinx.  To  this  day  certain  Afri- 
cans wear  a  leopard-skin  as  a  charm  against  spear- 
thrusts. 

Another  of  the  traditions  of  the  Mayas  was 
that  of  a  flood.  All  races  have  this  legend.  The 
Egyptian  priests,  who  scoffed  at  the  Greeks  for 
believing  that  the  entire  human  race  had  been 
drowned  in  Deucalion's  deluge,  told  Solon,  never- 
theless, twenty-five  hundred  years  ago,  that  the 
land  of  Mu,  in  the  Atlantic  Ocean,  had  sunk  in  a 
day  and  night,  nine  thousand  years  before  his  visit. 
A  terrific  volcanic  outburst  had  destroyed  the 
island.  Plato  told  of  the  same  disaster.  Over 
the  door  of  a  room  in  the  "  house  of  the  dark 
writing"  in  Chichinitza  is  another  account  of  the 
lost  Atlantis,  which  has  been  translated  to  this 
effect :  In  the  year  6  Kan,  1 1  Muluc,  the  month 

235 


Myths  and  Legends 

Zac,  occurred  terrible  earthquakes  that  kept  stead- 
ily on  until  the  13th  Chuen.  The  country  of 
mud-hills,  Mu,  was  destroyed.  Twice  it  was  up- 
heaved, then  suddenly  disappeared  in  the  night. 
When  the  surface  gave  way  ten  countries  were  torn 
asunder  and  scattered.  Unable  to  withstand  the 
force  of  the  convulsions,  they  sank,  with  their 
sixty-four  million  inhabitants,  eight  thousand  and 
sixty  years  before  the  making  of  the  record.  The 
superstition  attaching  to  the  number  13  is  ascribed 
to  the  occurrence  of  this  appalling  catastrophe  on 
the  13th  Chuen,  or  February.  The  blacks  that 
the  Spaniards  found  in  America  are  held  to  be  sur- 
vivors from  the  people  of  this  lost  continent. 

We  have  no  living  elephants,  yet  gods  and  demi- 
gods with  elephant-heads  were  carved  by  Mayas 
and  Aztecs.  This  proves  no  alien  origin  in  the 
artists,  for  the  elephant  lived  in  America,  doubtless 
within  two  thousand  years.  The  worship  of  ser- 
pents is  alleged  to  have  originated  in  the  popular 
love  for  the  good  king  Kan,  whose  totem,  or  seal, 
or  name-sign,  or  coat  of  arms,  was  a  snake.  The 
cross  is  likewise  seen  in  the  ornaments  of  build- 
ings, the  ground-plan  of  a  temple  in  Uxmal  is 
cruciform,  and  statues  found  in  Palenque  and  other 
ancient  cities  of  Guatemala  bear  the  cross  on  their 
breasts.  Its  use  is  said  to  be  related  to  the  ap- 
pearance of  the  constellation  of  the  Southern  Cross, 
which  in  the  month  of  Maya,  or  May,  stands  above 
the  horizon  in  Mayax,  and  the  people  welcome  it 

236 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

because  the  long,  dry  season  then  breaks  up  in 
copious  rain,  bringing  coolness  and  plenty  to  the 
earth. 

We  know  that  Kopan  had  bound  books  and 
phonetic  writing  long  before  the  conquest,  as  well 
as  splendid  arts.  That  education  was  encouraged 
in  ancient  Mayax  is  hardly  true,  however,  since 
learning  was  surrounded  with  difficulties  and  cere- 
monies, though  the  priests  and  teachers  doubtless 
allowed  the  children  to  learn  a  few  simple  facts 
without  scaring  them  into  as  many  fits.  The  haz- 
ing to  which  candidates  for  admission  to  the  tem- 
ples were  subjected  was  very  dismal.  Still,  the 
account  of  it  found  in  the  sculptures  and  in  the 
sacred  book  of  the  Quiches  may  be  allegorical, 
since  it  appears  to  be  characteristic  of  primitive 
peoples  never  to  say  a  thing  plainly  if  there  is  any 
way  to  cover  it  with  parable  and  set  people  to 
quarrelling  about  it  afterward.  The  ancient  initia- 
tion was  this :  First,  the  unhappy  wretch  who 
wanted  to  Jearn  the  multiplication  table  and  other 
portentous  knowledge  had  to  cross  a  river  of  mud 
and  another  of  blood.  There  are  no  such  rivers, 
except  in-doors.  However,  when  he  got  over  he 
had  to  walk  on  four  roads,  white,  red,  green,  and 
black,  which  took  him  to  a  hall  where  a  number 
of  veiled  priests  awaited  him.  He  had  first  to 
pick  out  the  priest  who  was  made  of  wood,  be- 
cause one  of  the  party  was  bogus,  and  he  was  then 
invited  to  be  seated.     The  stone  bench  was  burn- 

237 


Myths  and  Legends 

ing  hot,  and  when  the  victim  pensively  arose  the 
company  said  it  was  a  lesson  to  him  not  to  be 
familiar  in  presence  of  his  superiors.  Then  he 
had  to  spend  a  night  in  a  guarded  cell  holding  a 
lighted  torch  in  his  hand  and  a  smaller  one  in  his 
mouth.  These  he  must  not  put  out,  yet  they 
must  go  out,  and  he  must  give  them  back  in  the 
morning,  under  penalty  of  beating  and  death.  The 
next  act  in  this  useful  and  entertaining  perform- 
ance was  to  defend  himself  against  the  attacks  of 
an  able-bodied  spearman.  Then  he  passed  a  night 
in  an  ice-house, — and  where  did  they  get  the  ice  ? 
— and  danced  for  ten  hours  to  keep  from  freez- 
ing and  catching  pneumonia.  Another  night  in  a 
den  of  wild  animals  prepared  him  for  nearly  any- 
thing that  might  follow,  and  if  he  still  wanted  to 
study  the  multiplication  table  he  was  put  into  a 
house  where  fires  were  burning  all  night.  After 
this  what  was  left  of  him  was  thrown  into  the 
house  of  bats,  and  these  pleasant  creatures  got  into 
his  hair  and  nibbled  his  flesh  and  nearly  put  his 
eyes  out  with  their  wings,  while  Camazotz,  the 
bat  god,  who,  you  may  be  sure,  was  one  of  the 
priests  in  disguise,  capered  about,  trying  to  get  a 
chance  to  cut  off  his  head.  If  the  scholar  lived 
through  all  this  he  was  congratulated,  and  spent 
the  rest  of  his  days  pining  for  a  chance  to  initiate 
others.  Such  performances  had  their  use.  It  was 
the  able  that  survived. 


238 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

OUR   LADY   OF   GUADALUPE 

THE  hill  of  Guadalupe  is  a  place  of  pilgrimage 
for  Christians  to-day,  as  it  was  for  nature- 
worshippers  more  than  a  thousand  years  ago,  when 
it  was  called  Tapeyacac.  Here  stood  a  temple  of 
the  goddess  of  corn,  sometimes  named  the  fruit- 
bearer,  also  mother  of  the  gods.  When  the 
Spaniards  came  they  told  the  people  that  in  pray- 
ing to  this  principle  of  life  they  were  doing  an 
evil  thing.  The  invaders  smashed  the  temple  into 
ruin  and  tore  up  the  road  that  led  to  it,  but  the 
natives  kept  climbing  to  the  top  to  give  their 
homage,  as  of  old,  to  the  creative  forces  that  were 
symbolized  in  their  statues.  It  was  not  deemed 
advisable  to  keep  the  Mexicans  virtuous  by  killing, 
maiming,  robbing,  and  enslaving  them  too  con- 
stantly, lest  they  should  become  restive,  yet  the 
good  priests  were  in  distress  that  the  natives  re- 
fused to  put  the  "  Christian  God  mother  in  place 
of  the  heathen  mother  of  the  gods."  But  all  came 
about  as  they  would  have  it,  without  long  resort  to 
violence,  for  on  the  9th  of  January — this  was  in 
1 53 1 — a  reformed  native  who  bore  the  Christian 
name  of  Juan  Diego  heard  angels  singing  on  this 
hill  as  he  passed  it  on  his  way  to  mass,  and  a  shining 
lady  appeared  to  him  with  an  order  to  report  to  the 
bishop  what  he  had  seen  and  heard,  and  to  tell  him 
that  she  wished  a  church  to  be  built,  in  her  name, 
on  the  hill  where  she  was  standing. 

239 


Myths  and  Legends 

In  no  wise  disturbed  by  this  vision,  for  he  was  an 
Indian,  Juan  Diego  repaired  to  the  functionary  and 
delivered  the  divine  command.  The  bishop  was 
sinfully  suspicious,  or  obtuse,  seeming  to  think  that 
if  any  such  order  were  given  it  should  have  been 
to  him,  personally,  rather  than  to  an  ignorant 
Aztec,  and  he  refused  to  build.  Juan  went  back  to 
the  hill  and  told  the  shining  lady  that  the  bishop 
was  sceptical.  She  directed  Juan  to  climb  the  hill 
again  next  day,  so  he  went  back  in  the  morning, 
which  was  Sunday,  and  she  sent  him  to  the  bishop 
with  the  same  order.  His  excellency  sent  the 
Indian  packing  again,  and  told  him  to  bring  proof 
that  what  he  said  was  true.  Juan  trudged  back  to 
the  hill-top,  and  on  relating  this  second  failure  was 
ordered  by  the  shining  lady  to  return  again  next 
day,  when  she  would  cure  the  bishop  of  his  doubts. 
Juan  was  kept  so  busy  with  these  errands  for  two 
days  that  his  poor  uncle  at  home  became  very  weak 
with  hunger  and  neglect,  and  on  reaching  his  cabin 
the  old  man  bade  him  hurry  for  a  priest  to  shrive 
him,  for  his  end  was  near.  Early  in  the  morning 
the  Indian,  now  weary  with  much  travel,  set  off 
for  town,  and,  fearing  to  have  more  errands  put 
upon  him,  he  went  around  the  mountain,  his  bare 
feet  patting  softly  over  the  earth,  but  again  the 
shining  lady  arose  in  his  path  and  repeated  her 
command  that  the  bishop  should  build  a  church 
for  her.  Juan  begged  to  be  allowed  to  pass,  for 
his  uncle  was  dying.     The  shining  one  bade  him 

240 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

not  to  think  of  the  old  man,  for  he  had  already 
recovered  his  health  through  a  divine  ordinance. 
The  messenger  must  pick  the  flowers  at  his  feet 
and  carry  them  to  the  bishop  in  his  blanket. 
Flowers  ?  There  were  no  flowers  in  that  barren 
spot.  Why,  yes !  For,  look :  the  ground  was 
gay  with  them.  The  Aztecs  loved  color  and  per- 
fume, and  to  gather  these  pretty  blossoms  was  a 
congenial  task.  Juan  filled  his  blanket  and  hurried 
to  the  bishop,  hoping  that  he  would  be  convinced 
at  last.  And  he  was ;  for  it  was  found  that  the 
juice  of  the  crushed  flowers  had  painted  on  the 
blanket,  which  he  immediately  took  from  its  owner, 
a  beautiful  portrait  of  the  shining  lady, — none  other 
than  the  Holy  Virgin. 

This  portrait  was  seen  to  be  authentic,  for  it  was 
the  same  as  one  in  the  village  of  Guadalupe,  in 
Spain,  and  forthwith  the  hill  of  Tepeyacac  became 
the  hill  of  Guadalupe,  and  the  bishop  made  all 
haste  to  amend  for  his  unseemly  doubts  by  begin- 
ning work  on  the  church,  long  since  replaced  by 
one  of  the  finest  cathedrals  in  the  Western  world. 
The  bishop  and  Juan  together  had  little  difficulty 
in  proving  to  the  Indians  that  the  spot  was  hence- 
forth sacred  to  the  Virgin,  and  that  heathen  wor- 
ship could  be  tolerated  there  no  longer.  The  hill 
is  now  a  place  of  yearly  pilgrimage,  by  sanction  of 
the  pope,  who  set  aside  the  12th  of  December  for 
that  purpose,  and  confirmed  the  choice  of  the 
people  in  making  Our  Lady  of  Guadalupe  pro- 
16  241 


Myths  and  Legends 

tector  of  New  Spain.  She  has  ever  been  a  kind 
patron  ;  she  has  led  them  in  their  wars  for  liberty  ; 
from  1629  to  1634,  when  the  city  of  Mexico  was 
a  Venice,  Our  Lady  of  Guadalupe  lived  there,  in 
order  to  make  the  water  go  down. 

On  the  hill  are  a  stone  mast  and  chapel  that  were 
set  up  by  sailors  whom  she  delivered  from  ship- 
wreck. The  mast  with  its  sail  they  carried  on 
their  shoulders  all  the  way  from  Vera  Cruz,  and 
after  planting  it  here  they  encased  it  in  stone  that 
it  might  endure  forever.  Near  by  is  the  spring 
that  broke  out  when  she  angrily  stamped  her  foot 
on  learning  of  the  bishop's  obstinacy.  The  mud 
about  this  holy  well  is  eaten  by  the  devout  for  its 
moral  and  healing  properties.  Juan  Diego,  in 
effigy,  upholds  the  pulpit  in  the  chapel  of  the  well, 
and  his  blanket,  with  its  radiant  picture,  is  framed 
in  gold  and  silver  in  the  great  church,  "  the  holiest 
shrine  in  Mexico." 

OUR   LADY   OF   THE   REMEDIES 

AS  Our  Lady  of  Guadalupe  hears  the  prayers 
of  those  who  suffer  from  too  much  rain,  so 
Our  Lady  of  the  Remedies  heeds  the  request  of 
those  who  lack  it,  and  sometimes  the  agricultural 
interests  of  the  valley  lead  the  farmers  into  a 
conflict  of  petitions.  A  dozen  miles  from  the 
capital  rises  the  hill  of  Totoltepec,  crowned  in 
former  centuries  by  a  temple.     In  the   shelter  of 

242 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

that  work,  which  his  own  men  had  injured,  Cortez 
and  his  army  rested  during  the  retreat  of  the  Noche 
Triste.  As  a  protection  against  the  native  hordes, 
one  of  his  soldiers  carried  an  image  of  the  Virgin 
that  had  been  brought  from  Spain.  It  had  been 
set  up  in  a  public  place,  with  Montezuma's  per- 
mission, but  Cortez  feared  that  the  angered  people 
would  destroy  it,  as  he  had  destroyed  the  statues  of 
their  gods.  Wounded  and  tired,  the  soldier  for- 
sook his  trust  and  hid  the  figure  near  the  temple. 
In  1635  a  reformed  Aztec  found  it  in  a  clump  of 
maguey,  and,  delighted  with  his  discovery,  was  for 
taking  it  home  with  him,  when  the  image  began  to 
work  miracles  to  show  its  intention  to  remain  on 
the  hill.  The  priests  decided  that  a  chapel  must 
be  built  for  it,  and  this  was  erected,  the  Virgin  re- 
warding her  worshippers  by  continuing  her  miracles 
and  benefits,  especially  that  of  giving  copious  rains 
after  the  dry  season.  So  greatly  was  she  esteemed 
that  during  the  civil  war  in  the  early  part  of  the 
nineteenth  century  the  royalists  took  the  statue  to 
the  city  with  them  when  Hidalgo  drove  them  in, 
and  made  it  a  general  in  their  army,  as  Our  Lady 
of  Guadalupe  had  become  a  leader  on  the  other 
side.  But  her  efforts  were  without  avail,  and  when 
the  republicans  triumphed,  the  people  were  so  in- 
dignant at  her  faithlessness  in  accepting  a  com- 
mission from  their  enemies  that  they  stripped  away 
her  jewels,  valued  at  a  million  dollars,  broke  her 
nose   off,  cut   out  one  eye,  and   formally  decreed 

243 


Myths  and  Legends 

her  banishment  from  the  country.  The  latter 
sentence  was  never  carried  out,  for  she  was  too 
strongly  placed  in  the  affections  of  some  of  the 
people  to  make  her  removal  possible,  so  that  she  is 
now  back  on  the  hill  where  Cortez's  soldier  left 
her,  and  there  she  rewards  the  faithful  and  de- 
serving according  to  their  prayers  and  needs. 

SOME   OTHER   MIRACLES 

IN  Jesus  of  Nazareth  Church,  Mexico  City,  stands 
an  image  of  great  age,  known  as  Our  Lady 
of  the  Ball.  It  was  at  one  time  the  property  of  a 
poor  man  in  Ixtapalapan,  who  made  a  shrine  for  it 
and  worshipped  it  constantly.  It  would  have  been 
better  for  all  concerned  if  his  religion  had  been  more 
in  his  life  and  less  on  his  lips,  for  on  the  mere  sus- 
picion that  his  wife  had  been  flirting  with  some 
dusky  neighbors  he  charged  her  with  infidelity,  re- 
fused to  listen  to  denials  and  explanations,  and 
loaded  his  old  horse-pistol,  intending  to  shoot  her 
as  she  knelt  at  the  foot  of  the  Virgin.  The 
woman  begged  the  protection  of  the  statue  so  earn- 
estly that,  just  as  the  husband  fired,  the  statue 
threw  out  its  hand  and  turned  the  course  of  the 
bullet  so  that  it  entered  the  clay  wall  of  the  cabin. 
This  intervention  convinced  the  man  that  his  wife 
was  innocent,  and  the  couple  worshipped  the  statue 
so  incessantly  afterward  that  it  was  hardly  possi- 
ble to  get  them  to  work,  until  the  priests  carried 

244 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

it  away  to  the  capital,  where  they  were  sure  that 
it  would  do  good  to  more  than  two  people. 

In  the  chapel  of  the  convent  of  Our  Lady  of 
the  Conception,  Mexico  City,  the  Sisters  were  puz- 
zled by  what  sounded  like  the  ticking  of  a  clock, 
although  there  was  no  clock  in  or  near  the  building 
whose  pendulum  was  set  to  so  slow  a  swing.  The 
chapel  was  inspected  frequently  without  result, 
until  a  nun  more  adventurous  than  the  rest  discov- 
ered that  the  noise  was  made  by  drops  of  water 
falling  behind  the  organ.  The  miraculous  part  of 
this  occurrence  is  that  it  came  from  a  dry  ceiling, 
and  there  was  no  water  above  it.  The  Virgin  at 
length  revealed  to  one  of  the  Sisters  in  a  dream 
that  so  long  as  the  water  ticked  off  the  hours  the 
building  was  safe,  but  that  when  it  ceased  to  fall 
the  building  must  fall  instead.  And  it  did.  It 
fell  into  the  hands  of  prosaic  reformers  and  real 
estate  dealers,  who  partitioned  it  into  dwellings. 

From  this  it  appears  that  the  power  of  the  spir- 
itual authorities  over  water  had  declined  since  the 
time  of  that  priest  in  Tacubaya  who  on  a  hot  day 
rested  beneath  a  tree  and  blessed  it  for  shading  him. 
The  result  of  his  blessing  is  seen  in  the  constant 
greenness  of  the  arbol  benito  and  the  continued 
flow  of  a  spring  that  gushed  into  being  under  its 
root  at  that  moment. 

In  1 580  an  Aztec  chief  saw  a  picture  of  the  Vir- 
gin floating  about  in  the  flood  in  Mexico  City  and 
rescued  it.     As  soon  as  the  inundation  had  subsided 

245 


Myths  and  Legends 

he  made  a  chapel  of  adobe  on  the  spot  where  it 
had  been  found,  and  placed  the  picture  in  it. 
Though  the  lazy  people  did  not  keep  the  building 
in  repair,  allowing  its  roof  to  fall  and  its  sides  to 
breach  and  crack,  the  Virgin  always  protected  her 
picture  from  the  rain  and  dirt,  and  at  last  the  mys- 
terious canvas  was  housed  in  the  church  of  Our 
Lady  of  the  Angels,  which  was  built  for  it.  The 
figure  of  the  Virgin  is  now  hidden  behind  a  dress 
that  a  pious  tailor  made  for  her  in  1776. 

THE   PICTURE   AND   THE   STORM 

THE  church  of  Our  Lady  of  Piety,  in  Mexico 
City,  was  founded  by  the  Dominicans  in  1 65  2. 
Shortly  before  that  time  a  member  of  the  order 
went  abroad  on  some  business  to  the  Holy  City, 
and  was  directed,  while  there,  to  order  a  picture 
of  the  Virgin  and  the  dead  Christ  from  the  most 
famous  painter  in  Rome.  This  commission  he 
fulfilled,  but  the  artist,  being  of  a  postponing  dis- 
position, made  such  slow  progress  that  when  it  was 
time  for  the  monk  to  start  back  to  America  the 
work  had  been  merely  sketched,  and  not  a  brushful 
of  color  had  been  applied  to  it.  In  those  times  a 
journey  of  such  distance  was  not  undertaken  every 
day,  and  as  it  might  never  fall  to  the  Dominican  to 
visit  Rome  again,  he  concluded  to  carry  the  picture 
with  him,  slight  though  it  was.  He  paid  the  artist 
a  small  sum,  jogged  on  muleback  and  trundled  in 

246 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

carriages  to  Spain,  and  there  took  a  vessel  for 
Mexico,  the  canvas,  closely  rolled,  forming  a  part 
of  his  luggage. 

Not  many  days  from  port  a  furious  storm  set  in, 
and  it  seemed  doubtful  if  the  ship  could  weather  it. 
Sails  were  torn,  cordnge  broken,  bulwarks  staved, 
and  all  on  board  were  in  terror,  until,  at  the  monk's 
suggestion,  they  vowed  to  build  a  church  to  the 
Virgin  in  Mexico  if  she  would  permit  them  to 
reach  that  land  in  safety.  She  allowed  the  storm 
to  rage  a  little  longer,  the  better  to  impress  them 
with  their  peril,  then  the  clouds  were  scattered, 
the  waves  stilled,  the  winds  abated,  and  the  ship 
rode  serenely  into  harbor.  The  sailors  were  as 
good  as  their  word.  They  spent  their  time  ashore 
in  collecting  money,  and  with  it  the  Dominicans 
laid  the  foundations  of  this  church.  After  the  altar 
had  been  completed  the  monk  bethought  him  of  the 
drawing  he  had  brought  from  Rome.  He  unrolled 
it,  and,  to  the  astonishment  and  admiration  of  all, 
it  was  finished  in  color,  to  the  last  brush-stroke. 
It  hangs  above  the  altar,  and  is  greatly  venerated. 

THE   MISCHIEVOUS  COCKTAIL 

NEW  World  drinks  are  a  grateful  astonish- 
ment to  visiting  foreigners,  and  a  matter  of 
joyful  pride  among  the  natives,  for  the  perform- 
ances of  our  bar-tenders  have  been  studied  by 
French,  Germans,  and  English  without  avail,  the 

247 


Myths  and  Legends 

strong    or   sodden   fluids    sold    over    the    so-called 
"  American  bars"  in  Europe   being  a  reflection  on 
American    art.      Among    these    various    beverages 
none  is  more  popular  than  the  cocktail :  a  gulp  of 
liquor  in  a  cold   glass,  with   a  dash  of  bitters  and 
syrup,  a  drop  of  lemon,  and  a  garnish  of  fruit ;  and 
it  is  said   to   be   quite    pleasant.      In    their    names 
our  various  inventions  are  stimulative  of  curiosity, 
though  stone  fence,  Tom  Collins,  high  ball,  whiskey 
rickey,  gin  sling,  silver  fizz,  whiskey  skin,  whiskey 
daisy,   cobbler,  smash,  and   royal   punch  are  more 
apt  to  excite  apprehension  than  thirst  among  the 
uninitiated.      Cocktail,  especially,  is  a  term  that  has 
not  received  the  amount  of  study  that  was  its  due 
among  philologists  and  historians,  though  lame  at- 
tempts are  made  to  account  for  it  on  the  score  that 
physicians  used    to    anoint    the    sore    throats    and 
swollen    tonsils   of  their    patients    with    a    cock's 
feather  that  had  been  dipped  into  healing  lotions, 
— an  operation  that  explains  the   Colorado  terms 
"  throat  paint"  and   M  tonsil  varnish"  as  applied  to 
whiskey,  but  that  brings  us  no  nearer  to  the  origin 
of  cocktail,  it  being  a  mere  and  obvious  guess  that 
gargles    succeeded    the    feather    applications,    that 
doses  succeeded  the  gargles,  and  that  drinks  suc- 
ceeded the  doses.     Another  ineffective  tradition  is 
that  in  the  sixties  sprigs  of  mint,  used  in  the  prep- 
aration of  mint-juleps,  were  called  cocktails,  because 
they  had  not  the  slightest  resemblance  to  any  kind 
of  tails,  and  are  not  used  in  cocktails  anyhow. 

248 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

No :  the  true  tale  of  the  cocktail  antedates 
Columbus.  It  has  to  do  with  the  Toltecs  in  the 
eleventh  century.  In  Mexico  the  common  drink 
is  pulque,  a  poor  beer  made  from  the  sap  of  the 
maguey  plant.  The  exhilarating  possibilities  of 
this  juice  were  discovered  by  a  native  of  Tula,  who 
was  either  a  nobleman  at  the  time  or  was  ennobled 
for  his  service  to  the  race.  Finding  pulque  to  be 
a  good  thing,  from  the  Mexican  point  of  taste,  he 
sent  his  daughter,  The  Flower  of  Tula,  to  the 
emperor  with  samples.  His  majesty  having  con- 
sumed a  couple  of  quarts  of  the  beverage  was 
vastly  comforted,  and,  being  in  a  mood  to  do  good, 
he  oiFered  to  let  the  nobleman's  daughter  be  one 
of  his  wives.  His  offer  having  been  suddenly  ac- 
cepted, for  royal  offers  of  this  kind  are  never  re- 
fused, he  declared  that  the  drink  was  fine  enough 
to  perpetuate  in  its  name  the  beauties  and  graces  of 
the  demoiselle  who  had  been  his  Hebe,  and  he 
called  it,  after  her,  Xochitl.  Moreover,  he  started 
an  inebriate  asylum  of  his  own,  and  kept  his  im- 
perial skin  well  filled  with  the  mysterious  juice, 
thus  offering  an  example  to  other  kings,  who  are 
frequently  in  debt  for  their  cheer. 

The  head  wife  of  the  king,  who  regarded  this 
new-comer  in  the  harem  with  sharp  disfavor,  was 
reminded  that  she  had  never  invented  a  drink,  and 
that  silence  was  becoming  to  women.  In  time  the 
inheritor  of  the  kingdom  was  to  be  declared,  and 
the  choice  fell,  not   on  the  son  of  the  older  wife, 

249 


Myths  and  Legends 

but  on  that  of  Xochitl.  The  family  disturbance 
that  began  then  led  to  faction  fighting  and  the  final 
disruption  and  downfall  of  the  Toltec  dynasty, 
though  the  Aztecs  continued  the  brewing  industry, 
and  they  keep  on  making  pulque  and  the  worse 
mescal  in  Tula  to  this  day.  People  in  Mexico 
and  on  the  edge  thereof  worried  along  with  the 
name  of  Xochitl  for  the  insidious  destroyer  for 
years  and  years,  for  they  had  not  gumption  enough 
even  to  use  an  easy  word,  unless  somebody  showed 
them  how.  Somebody  did.  It  was  the  United 
States  army.  It  went  to  Mexico,  conquered  it, 
found  it  warm  work,  acquired  a  thirst,  was  served 
with  xochitl,  couldn't  say  it,  though  it  could  drink 
it,  called  it  cocktail,  and  there  you  are. 

THE   COUNCILLORS   OF   LAGOS 

SOME  of  the  things  that  they  tell  about  the 
Dutch  aldermen  in  New  Amsterdam,  in  the 
days  of  Peter  the  wooden-legged  and  iron-headed, 
are  strangely  like  some  other  things  that  have  hap- 
pened in  this  strange  land  of  the  sun.  Lagos,  a 
thriving  city  of  twenty  thousand  people,  was  for  a 
long  time  the  butt  of  light  wits  from  other  towns, 
and  its  councillors  seem  to  have  been  chosen 
with  especial  reference  to  unfitness  for  their  places, 
wherein  they  differ  from  all  other  statesmen.  They 
have  a  bridge  in  that  city  which  for  some  time  was 
allowed  to  bear  this  inscription  : 

250 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

This  bridge  was  built  in  Lagos. 
To  walk  under,  and  not  over. 

Needless  to  add  that  some  joker  had  painted  on 
the  last  half  of  the  sentence.  There  were  twelve 
of  the  famous  law-givers  in  Lagos,  and  they  were 
accustomed  on  assembling  in  their  hall  to  occupy 
a  long  wooden  bench.  One  day  six  of  them  ar- 
rived in  advance  of  the  others  and  sat  down,  each 
with  his  hat  beside  him, — the  big  sombrero  that 
takes  as  much  seat-space  as  a  man.  Presently  came 
the  other  six,  who  looked  at  the  bench  in  astonish- 
ment. 

"  Santa  Maria  !"  exclaimed  one  of  them.  "  The 
dry  season  is  here,  and  it  shrinks  the  bench." 

"  True,"  said  another ;  "  but  perhaps  if  we  all 
pull  hard  we  can  stretch  it  out  as  long  as  it  used  to 
be." 

Up  arose  the  six,  put  on  their  hats  like  the  rest, 
and  all  pulled.  Then  the  twelve  sat  down  with 
their  hats  on,  and,  lo  !  there  was  room  for  all. 

At  another  time  the  people  were  much  troubled 
by  a  hole  that  had  been  left  on  the  plaza  in  con- 
sequence of  some  public  work.  Our  wise  men 
ordered  it  to  be  rilled.  The  dirt  to  fill  it  was  dug 
about  fifty  feet  away,  and  that  left  another  hole. 
Children  were  continually  tumbling  into  it,  near- 
sighted and  elderly  citizens  had  narrow  escapes 
every  day,  graceless  beings  who  had  looked  upon 
the  fire-water  when  it  was  inflammable  fell  into  it 
head  first  and  went  to  sleep.     This  second  hole 

251 


Myths  and  Legends 

was  worse  than  the  first,  because  the  people  had 
not  grown  used  to  it.  So  the  councillors  held 
another  meeting  and  resolved  to  fill  this  second 
pit.  The  contractor  took  the  earth  from  a  place 
some  yards  away,  and  this  left  a  third  hole.  In 
time  this,  too,  was  filled,  and  the  holes  thus  pro- 
ceeded in  a  slow  and  orderly  fashion  until  they  had 
been  chased  to  the  edge  of  the  town,  where  the 
last  one  was  left  for  time  and  the  dumpings  from 
neighboring  residences  to  abate  its  dangers.  Lagos 
may  have  been  the  original  place  where  it  was  de- 
cided to  build  a  new  jail  in  this  fashion  :  "  Re- 
solved, that  we  build  a  new  jail.  Resolved,  that 
we  build  it  out  of  the  materials  of  the  old  one. 
Resolved,  that  we  use  the  old  one  until  the  new  one 
is  built." 

The  next  time  that  the  minds  of  the  councillors 
were  disturbed  was  when  it  was  found  that  grass 
was  growing  on  the  roof  of  one  of  its  public  build- 
ings. How  could  it  be  shorn  ?  Various  costly 
expedients  were  suggested,  but  the  most  wakeful 
intellect  in  the  company  conceived  this  remedy, 
and  his  plan  was  adopted  :  a  road  was  built  from 
the  street  to  the  top  of  the  house,  a  cow  was  driven 
up  this  road  to  the  roof,  the  cow  ate  the  grass,  was 
driven  down  again,  the  road  was  carted  away,  and 
the  council  slumbered. 


252 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

THE   HUMPBACK   OF   COLIMA 

IN  Colima,  which  stands  in  the  shadow  of  peaks 
that  spire  to  a  height  of  sixteen  thousand  feet 
above  the  sea,  lived  a  wood-chopper,  hump-backed, 
poor,  but  merry  and  kind,  beloved  by  all  the  chil- 
dren, ready  to  share  their  games  and  make  toys  for 
them.  Juan  worked  hard,  lived  hard,  but  sang  all 
day  long.  For  neighbor  he  and  his  wife  had  Emilio 
Romero,  who  had  also  been  a  peon,  but  was  now 
rich,  and  people  said  he  had  gained  his  money  in  a 
devious  fashion,  if  he  had  not  actually  robbed  men 
in  the  highway.  With  money  Romero  took  on  a 
"nasty"  pride  that  made  him  snub  his  old  com- 
panion ;  yet  he  put  on  none  of  the  decencies  of 
life  to  support  his  state,  for  he  would  get  drunk, 
beat  his  wife,  and  was  an  uncomfortable  citizen. 
It  was  while  chopping  a  tree  in  the  wood  one 
afternoon  that  Juan  suffered  what  he  thought  was  a 
misfortune,  so  soon  as  he  was  in  any  state  to  think, 
for  he  was  stunned  by  a  falling  limb,  and  did  not 
regain  his  senses  until  the  rise  of  the  moon.  Prop- 
ping himself  on  his  elbow,  he  rubbed  his  noddle 
and  looked  curiously  about  him,  for  he  had  heard 
voices,  and  presently  he  could  see  in  the  dusk  a 
crowd  of  elves  dancing  about  the  glade.  They  were 
singing  the  Spanish  words  for  "  Monday,  Tuesday, 
Wednesday — three,"  over  and  over  again. 

"  Why  don't  you  sing  the  rest  ?"  asked  Juan. 

*'  We  don't  know  it,"  piped  the  little  creatures. 
253 


Myths  and  Legends 

"  It's  like  this  :  Thursday,  Friday,  Saturday — 
six." 

The  elves  leaped  and  tumbled  about  in  delight  at 
being  able  to  learn  the  rest  of  the  song,  and  they 
chorused  it  with  zest.  After  a  little  one  of  them 
said,  "  We  ought  to  pay  Juan  for  his  goodness. 
Let's  take  off  his  hump." 

How  they  did  it  he  never  knew,  and  the  neigh- 
bors said  it  was  the  falling  tree  that  did  it,  any- 
way ;  but  Juan  arose  from  the  earth  a  straight, 
sound  man.  Ah,  but  he  went  home  with  a  hump 
on  his  back  none  the  less, — a  hump  nearly  as  big 
as  the  old  one,  only  it  was  made  of  gold,  and  car- 
ried in  a  bag.  With  many  good-byes  and  kind 
wishes  the  elves  took  leave  of  Juan,  and  in  the 
moonlight  he  tramped  away  to  his  home,  where  he 
astonished  his  wife  by  showing  the  quantity  of 
treasure  that  the  fairies  had  given  to  him.  Juan 
immediately  bought  a  house  and  set  up  a  shop  with 
his  money,  and  this  led  Romero  to  wonder  whom 
he  could  have  robbed,  to  grow  so  suddenly  wealthy; 
for  it  never  occurred  to  him  that  honesty  could 
have  its  rewards  no  less  than  industry.  By  per- 
sistent questioning  of  Juan's  wife  the  envious  fellow 
learned  the  story,  and  at  first  he  disbelieved  it. 
"  Dwarfs  !"  quoth  he.  "  There  are  no  such  crea- 
tures in  Mexico.  Yet,  I  do  remember  it  was  a 
savage  dwarf  that  built  the  Soothsayer's  House,  in 
Uxmal,  in  a  night.  Perhaps  it  is  so,  and  if  I  see 
them,  I,  too,  shall  win  my  share  of  elfin  gold." 

254 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

It  irked  him  to  think  that  his  once  poor  neighbor 
was  richer  now  than  he.  So  he  went  to  the  wood 
and  pretended  to  sleep,  and  presently  the  little 
people  came  out,  sure  enough,  and  danced  about, 
singing,  as  before, — 

Lunes,  Martes,  Miercoles — tres  ; 
Jueves,  Viernes,  Sabado — seis. 

"  Why  don't  you  end  it  ?"  asked  Romero,  sud- 
denly sitting  up. 

"  How  ?"  they  cried. 

"  Domingo — siete."     (Sunday — seven.) 

They  tried  it,  then  shrieked,  "  Why,  it  doesn't 
rhyme.  It  spoils  it  all."  And  they  fell  upon  the 
intruder,  pulled  his  hair  and  cuffed  him  soundly. 
Then  they  recognized  him  as  a  proud,  mean  man 
and  a  robber,  and  they  put  Juan's  old  hump  on  his 
back,  which  he  wore  ever  after.  That  is  why 
people  who  interrupt,  or  make  needless  and  foolish 
remarks  in  company,  are  quieted  by  saying,  "  Do- 
mingo— siete." 

WHY  CHOLULA   PYRAMID  WAS  BUILT 

IN  the  land  of  Anahuac  and  elsewhere  were 
many  giants.  The  Tlascalans  who  showed 
their  bones — real  bones,  taller  than  a  man — could 
not  be  persuaded  that  such  things  might  have  be- 
longed to  lizards  and  elephants,  for  there  are  no 
such    animals    about   here    now.     The    Tlascalan 

255 


Myths  and  Legends 

people  were  so  annoyed  by  the  misbehavior  of  the 
giants,  many  centuries  ago,  that  they  were  forced 
to  kill  them  or  drive  them  into  the  wilderness, 
to  perish  of  starvation.  Nevertheless,  so  many 
were  left  that  the  lives  of  the  people  were  in 
constant  peril,  and  around  Cholula  the  monsters 
became  so  wicked  that  the  gods  decided  to  de- 
stroy them,  even  though  they  incidentally  had 
to  drown  or  change  the  innocent  also,  and  they 
poured  a  mighty  deluge  upon  the  earth.  All  the 
people  were  overcome  by  the  sea  and  turned  into 
fishes,  except  seven,  who  succeeded  in  gaining  a 
cave,  where  they  stayed  until  the  waters  were 
withdrawn,  either  into  the  sky  or  under  the  earth, 
when  they  came  forth  and  peopled  the  world 
again.  It  appears  that  these  folk  learned  little 
from  having  been  drowned,  for  they  acquired  new 
sins,  and,  in  order  to  get  the  better  of  the  gods  in 
the  event  of  another  deluge,  they  decided  to  rear 
a  pyramid  whose  top  should  reach  the  heavens. 
They  might  have  climbed  any  of  the  great  vol- 
canoes, but  perhaps  those  peaks  were  in  eruption; 
and  they  began  to  build  on  Cholula  plain.  Bricks 
were  shaped  and  sun-dried  at  a  distance  from  this 
spot,  were  passed  along  from  hand  to  hand  by  a 
file  of  men  extending  for  miles  across  the  country, 
and  after  being  put  in  place  were  plastered  with 
bitumen  or  some  other  sticky  substance.  The 
work  was  not  to  proceed  far,  because  this  monu- 
ment of  presumption  angered  the  gods  anew,  and 

256 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

according  to  one  report  they  bent  down  from  the 
heavens  and  blew  off  its  top,  their  breath  striking 
the  earth  as  a  tornado,  while  another  account  says 
that  they  hurled  down  fire.  Reasons  for  this  latter 
version  are  strengthened  by  the  fact  that  a  great 
meteorite  was  preserved  in  the  sun-god's  temple  on 
the  summit  of  the  pyramid,  where  it  probably 
fell,  and  was  greatly  venerated.  This  meteor,  the 
priests  said,  was  the  thunderbolt  of  the  gods.  On 
the  destruction  of  the  mound,  which  some  say  was 
merely  defensive  in  its  purpose,  the  people  were 
further  punished  by  being  unable  to  understand 
one  another.  Aztec  historians  said  that  Cholula 
pyramid  was  built,  not  by  giants  or  wicked  people, 
but  by  the  fair  god,  or  prophet,  Quetzalcoatl ;  for 
he  lived  there,  taking  refuge  from  his  enemies 
(Cholula  means  "  place  of  the  fugitive"),  and 
teaching  useful  arts  and  forms  of  worship  to  the 
inhabitants.  A  relic  of  his  father,  a  quantity  of 
blond  human  hair,  was  shown  to  the  Spaniards 
when  they  came,  but  the  god  himself  had  long 
been  gone  to  happier  climes. 

THE   ARK   ON   COLHUACAN 

OUR  Aboriginal  deluge  legends  resemble  the 
Bible  narrative  of  the   flood   more  closely 
than  do  those  of  any  other  people.       The  fertile- 
minded  Ignatius  Donnelly  says  that  it  is  because 
they  came  direct  from  the  continent  of  Atlantis, 
17  257 


Myths  and  Legends 

the  sinking  whereof  in  earthquake  throes  gave  rise 
to  the  story  of  a  destruction  of  all  the  earth's  peo- 
ple, save  a  handful  of  the  wiser.  In  the  cosmogony 
of  the  Mexicans  the  world  has  passed  through  four 
ages  :  an  age  of  giants,  who  were  killed  by  famine  ; 
a  succeeding  age  that  ended  in  an  enormous  fire ; 
an  age  of  monkeys ;  and  the  age  of  "  the  sun  of 
water,"  that  ends  in  a  deluge.  The  man,  Coxcox, 
and  the  woman,  Xochiquetzal,  who  survived  floated 
about  in  a  boat  or  raft  hewn  from  a  cypress  trunk. 
This  tale  is  variously  told  in  different  parts  of  the 
country,  the  Mechoacaneses  relating  that  the  man, 
with  his  wife  and  children,  made  a  big  vessel, 
drove  animals  into  it,  and  also  laid  in  a  stock  of 
grain,  with  which  to  replenish  the  earth  when  the 
seas  should  subside.  After  floating  for  one  hundred 
and  four  years  on  the  shoreless  ocean,  Coxcox  freed 
a  vulture.  It  never  went  back.  Possibly  it  fell 
into  the  sea ;  mayhap  it  found  some  lonely  peak 
rising  from  the  flood  and  stayed  there  to  feed  on  the 
drowned  creatures.  Then  some  other  birds  were 
set  at  liberty,  and  at  last  the  humming-bird,  the 
only  one  of  them  all  to  return,  appeared  to  Coxcox 
with  green  leaves  in  its  beak.  The  subsidence  had 
begun.  Presently  the  ark  found  shore  at  Antlan, 
wherever  that  may  be,  but  it  kept  on  to  Chapul- 
tepec,  and  finally  settled  upon  Mount  Colhuacan, 
to  which  they  gave  the  name  of  Antlan,  after  the 
first  landing-place.  Looking  forth,  the  weary  ones 
could  see  that  the  hills  grew  green  as  fast  as  the 

258 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

waters  dropped  away.  They  left  their  boat  where 
it  had  found  land,  and  went  down  into  the  com- 
fortable valleys. 

MAKING   THE   SUN 

THERE  was  a  time  of  darkness  on  the  young 
earth,  when  the  air  was  thick  and  damp  and 
winds  blew  keen,  when  deep  waters  covered  the 
valleys  and  strange  creatures  wallowed  in  the  ocean 
slime,  when  faint  forms  of  light  appeared  in  the 
sky,  though  men  could  see  little  by  them,  when 
men  were  hungry,  chilled,  and  sad.  Wearying  of 
this  state,  the  earth  gods  built  a  temple  on  a  tall 
place  and  called  on  the  higher  gods  for  light,  beg- 
ging also  that  the  waters  might  be  drawn  off  a 
little,  so  as  to  leave  more  foot-room.  They  prayed 
long,  they  offered  sacrifices,  they  expressed  humility, 
and  sought  commiseration  by  cutting  themselves  with 
stone  knives.  In  time  the  waters  drew  away  and 
there  was  light.  Then  came  a  hurricane  that  swept 
off  trees,  mounds,  houses,  and  those  people  who 
had  not  hidden  from  its  violence  in  caves,  and  the 
darkness  brooded  once  more.  No  lamp  had  shone 
in  heaven  for  many  years,  and  the  gods  gathered  at 
last  at  Teotihuacan,  less  than  twenty  miles  from 
Mexico,  and  made  a  great  fire,  while  they  debated 
what  should  be  done  to  make  the  land  more  happy. 
At  last  they  told  the  people  who  had  fallen  pros- 
trate about  them  that  if  any  one  would  cast  him- 

259 


Myths  and  Legends 

self  into  the   fire   he   should   receive  worship  and 
honor,  and  win  a  place  in  the  sky,  as  a  sun. 

One  of  the  men,  Nanahuatzin,  advanced  with 
reverences,  and  begged  that  he  might  be  light- 
bearer  for  the  world.  His  request  was  granted. 
With  a  cry  of  farewell  to  his  people  he  plunged  into 
the  blazing  mass.  The  flames  eddied  about  him, 
vast  showers  of  sparks  went  up,  and  the  heavens 
were  overcast  more  blackly  than  before.  Now  the 
people  turned  their  backs  to  the  fire  and  began  to 
peer  this  way  and  that,  curiously,  eagerly,  for  in  the 
long  time  of  darkness  they  had  forgotten  where 
the  east  and  the  west  lay,  and  even  what  the  sun 
was  like.  At  last  came  a  bright  star,  heralding  the 
dawn,  and  then  all  voices  cried,  "  There !"  It 
was  in  the  east.  Then  the  people  implored  the 
god  whose  sign  is  the  snake  to  make  an  end  of  the 
fogs  and  coldness,  and  change  Nanahuatzin,  accord- 
ing to  the  promise.  Soon  a  green  light  appeared, 
edging  the  horizon  against  the  sky  ;  it  heightened 
and  cleared,  and  in  a  joy  the  people  danced,  with 
faces  toward  the  east,  holding  high  their  pans  of 
smoking  incense,  and  presently  they  dropped  for- 
ward, for  the  sun  was  up.  At  first  he  gave  little 
heat,  for  the  mist  hung  about  him,  the  earth  dried 
slowly,  and  the  people  sang  a  hymn  lamenting  all 
who  had  died  in  the  dark.  "  We,  indeed,  have 
seen  the  sun,  but  now  that  his  light  appears,  what 
has  become  of  them  ?"  At  each  rising  the  sun 
grew  warmer,  the  ice  left  the  ponds,  the  plains 

260 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

dried  and  became  green,  birds  sang  and  animals 
gambolled  in  delight ;  and,  always  keeping  their 
faces  toward  the  sun,  the  people  forgot  their  other 
gods.  When,  at  length,  they  turned  to  Teotihua- 
can,  lo  !  those  other  gods  were  figures  of  stone. 
The  sun  had  petrified  the  beings  from  whom  he 
had  gained  his  power,  and,  forgetting  their  dead 
divinities,  the  people  gave  all  their  worship  to  the 
new  one,  the  source  of  life. 

THE   POPUL  VUH 

THE  Popul  Vuh,  the  book  of  the  Quiches,  of 
Guatemala,  was  translated  into  Spanish  in 
1 72 1  by  Francisco  Ximinez,  a  Dominican  priest  in 
a  small  Indian  town  in  that  state.  Most  of  his 
manuscripts  were  destroyed,  on  account  of  the  rev- 
elations he  had  made  of  the  sly  and  brutal  measures 
to  which  the  Spaniards  resorted  in  their  hope  of 
gain  and  conquest,  and  this  work  was  hidden  in  a 
convent  for  over  a  century.  The  book  says  that 
the  heaven  was  made  by  him  who  was  creator, 
father,  mother,  and  cherisher,  the  wise  and  excel- 
lent one.  Nothing  was,  but  the  sky  and  sea : 
utterly  still.  And  the  lesser  gods  brooded.  All 
through  immensity  nothing  moved  nor  made  a  sound. 
When  the  silence  was  broken  the  creator  spoke  to 
the  sea,  crying,  "  Earth  !"  and  instantly  it  arose 
through  the  waters,  the  mountains  leaping  like  fish, 
with  torrents  streaming  down  their  sides,  and  trees 

261 


Myths  and  Legends 

appeared.  The  lesser  gods  were  filled  with  won- 
der and  delight,  crying,  "  Blessed,  O  Heart  of 
Heaven,  Hurakan,  Thunderbolt !"  In  the  sign 
Tochtli  was  the  earth  created ;  in  Acatl,  the  lights ; 
in  Tecpatl,  the  beasts.  On  the  seventh  day  man 
was  built  out  of  dust  and  made  alive.  But  first 
the  animals  were  told  to  hail  the  gods,  worship 
them,  and  speak  their  names  adoringly.  The  crea- 
tures tried,  but  could  only  grunt  and  chirp  and 
croak,  and  the  gods  said,  "  As  you  cannot  praise 
us,  you  shall  be  broken  with  teeth,  and  eaten." 
The  first  man,  of  clay,  could  speak,  but  could  not 
turn  his  head,  and  had  no  mind,  so  he  was  thrown 
into  the  sea,  a  failure.  Next  a  man  and  a  woman 
were  made  of  soft  wood,  and  they  peopled  the 
world  with  little  wooden  men,  but  they  had  no 
blood,  they  dried  in  the  sun,  and  they  did  not 
know  how  to  pacify  their  makers'  greed  for  praise, 
so  the  heavens  rained  gum  on  them,  their  houses 
fell,  the  trees  shook  them  out  of  their  branches, 
the  caves  shut  themselves  against  them,  and,  being 
unsheltered,  they  went  mad.  Beasts  and  birds  were 
sent  to  tear  their  flesh,  pull  out  their  eyes,  and 
crush  their  bones,  and  the  few  that  escaped  became 
apes,  the  parents  of  the  monkey  tribe-. 

Again  the  gods  made  men,  this  time  of  maize, 
and  this  time  perfect.  Large,  bold,  strong,  four 
fathers  of  the  race  to  be,  they  stood  under  the 
single  light  of  the  morning  star  and  with  one  voice 
began  to  repeat  thanks  to  the  gods.     After  their 

262 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

hunger  for  worship  had  waned,  the  gods  once  more 
fell  into  doubt.  The  men  were  too  perfect,  too 
nearly  like  themselves ;  they  saw  too  far ;  their 
attention  must  be  taken  in  some  other  way  than  by 
the  gods.  So  four  women  were  made  while  the 
men  slept,  and  when  they  awoke  they  were  de- 
lighted, and  looked,  not  on  the  gods,  but  on  their 
wives.  They  travelled  to  the  west,  and  soon  the 
earth  was  peopled,  men  living  peacefully  in  the 
twilight,  still  wondering  at  times  why  they  had 
been  made,  but  resuming  again  their  praise  for 
being  placed  on  earth,  and  hoping  for  a  sun.  Cer- 
tain gods  came  down  to  Tulanzuiva,  or  the  Seven 
Caves,  and  lived  among  them,  that  they  might  be 
applauded  more  constantly,  and  also  to  supply  them 
with  fire,  for  it  was  raw  and  dark,  and  there  was 
much  rain.  The  rain  put  out  the  flames,  but  Tohil, 
the  fire-god,  roused  them  again  by  stamping  with 
his  sandal.  In  this  land  of  Tulan  the  speech  of 
the  four  fathers  was  changed,  so  that  they  could  no 
longer  understand  one  another,  and  under  Tohil 
they  set  off"  to  look  for  another  home.  They  suf- 
fered much,  and  at  one  time  had  nothing  nearer  to 
food  than  the  smell  of  raw  wood.  Mountains 
they  crossed,  and  seas,  though  the  waters  parted  to 
make  a  dry  road  for  them. 

Finally  they  reached  Mount  Hakavitz,  named 
thus  for  one  of  their  gods,  and  at  last  the  sun  arose 
that  they  had  so  long  awaited.  The  men  fell  upon 
their  faces  and  sent  up  cries  of  thankfulness,  while 

263 


Myths  and  Legends 

the  beasts  gambolled  in  delight.  The  old  gods 
were  turned  to  stone,  yet  still  the  men  knelt  and 
praised  them,  and  cut  themselves  and  held  the  blood 
to  them  in  cups,  and  offered  freshly  slain  animals. 
A  city  was  founded,  and  the  people  of  it  spent  a 
part  of  their  time  every  day  in  telling  the  gods  how 
great  they  were.  Incessant  praise  being  not  enough, 
their  gods  now  demanded  human  victims,  and  these 
the  priests  began  to  steal  from  outlying  villages, 
purposely  covering  and  confusing  the  trails  by  which 
they  regained  the  mountain,  and  trying  to  spread 
the  belief  that  wild  animals  had  destroyed  the  miss- 
ing men.  Finally  the  villagers  arose  against  the 
Quiches,  but  none  can  defeat  the  gods,  and  in  the 
end  the  rebels  submitted  and  became  a  tributary 
people.  Then  came  the  summons  to  the  four 
fathers  to  quit  the  earth,  for  their  work  was  done. 
Calling  their  wives  and  children  to  them,  they  said 
farewell,  cautioning  them  to  praise  their  memories, 
and  instantly  they  vanished.  In  the  place  where 
they  had  been  was  a  great  bundle  without  a  seam. 
This  was  called  The  Enveloped  Majesty,  and  the 
people  long  burned  incense  before  it. 

FATHERS   OF   THE   MIZTECS 

FAR  back,  in  the  time  before  light,  when  the 
earth  was  covered  with  water  and  slime,  a  god 
and  a  goddess  appeared.  They  knew  their  power, 
and  they  practised  it  in  building  a  palace  for  them- 

264 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

selves  that  should  be  worthy  of  the  occupancy  of 
gods.  It  was  vast  in  size,  splendid  in  appoint- 
ments, a  true  Walhalla,  and  on  its  roof  was  a  cop- 
per axe,  edge  upmost,  on  which  the  heavens  rested. 
The  rock  on  which  this  palace  stood  was  near 
Apoala,  in  Mizteca  Aha,  and  was  called  The  Place 
of  Heaven.  Two  sons  were  born  to  these  deities, 
the  elder  amusing  himself  as  an  eagle  by  long 
flights  through  the  air,  and  the  other  turning  him- 
self into  a  winged  snake,  in  which  form  he  could 
pass  through  rocks.  Such  were  the  roaring  and 
clashing  in  their  wild  rushes  that  the  mountains 
rang  with  echoes.  These  sons  made  a  temple  in  a 
flowering  and  fruiting  meadow,  where  they  burned 
incense  in  clay  vessels  and  made  sacrifices  to  their 
father  and  mother,  praising  them  greatly  and  beg- 
ging for  a  better  light.  Their  garden  was  the  only 
dry  place,  except  the  Place  of  Heaven,  and  they 
prayed  that  the  waters  might  be  drawn  off  so  as  to 
leave  other  spots  to  stand  on.  In  order  to  please 
the  parents  more,  the  sons  lacerated  themselves, 
cutting  their  ears  and  tongues  with  stones  and 
throwing  the  blood  over  the  garden,  with  willow 
twigs.  Thus  they  gained  light  and  other  favors. 
Afterward  came  the  human  race,  and  being  wicked 
it  was  drowned  from  off  the  face  of  the  earth,  all 
save  the  ruling  family,  for  this  did  not  owe  its 
origin  to  the  gods,  but  to  two  great  trees  that  stood 
at  the  gate  of  Apoala  gorge,  bending  in  a  constant 
gale.     Each  of  these  trees  begat  a  boy,  and  the 

265 


Myths  and  Legends 

braver  of  the  two,  finding  the  sun  mischievous  in 
its  glare  and  heat,  shot  at  it  with  arrows  until  he 
had  much  wounded  it  and  forced  it  to  hide  behind 
the  mountains.  To  our  own  day  the  Miztec  coat 
of  arms  remains, — a  chief  with  bow,  arrows,  and 
shield,  with  the  sun  setting  behind  clouds  in  the 
distance. 

THE   WILLING   CAPTIVE 

CORTEZ  hurried  his  departure  for  Mexico 
not  merely  because  he  was  greedy  for  gain 
and  power  and  feared  the  intervention  of  a  jealous 
Cuban  governor,  but  because  it  had  been  rumored 
that  four  Spaniards  who  had  been  wrecked  on  the 
mainland  a  few  years  before  were  held  in  slavery 
by  the  natives  and  compelled  to  suffer  at  the  hands 
of  their  dusky  masters.  As  soon  as  the  conquerors 
had  secured  an  interpreter  and  had  gained  the  con- 
fidence of  the  districts  they  intended  to  pillage,  in- 
quiries were  set  afoot  respecting  the  white  cast- 
aways, and  rewards  of  trinkets  and  friendship  were 
offered  for  their  safe  conduct  to  Vera  Cruz.  Their 
captors,  a  tribe  living  southward  from  this  port, 
wanted  the  trinkets,  and  presently  appeared,  bring- 
ing with  them  the  four  adventurers,  who  were  well 
and  hearty,  in  no  wise  the  worse  for  their  experi- 
ence. Cortez  distributed  a  few  beads  and  bits  of 
metal  to  the  natives,  and  cordially  welcomed  his 
countrymen,   promising    ample   gains  to   them    if 

266 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

they  would  follow  him,  and  hinting  at  punishment 
of  the  people  with  whom  they  had  been  living  ; 
but  this  latter  offer  was  refused  by  the  "  slaves," 
who  declared  that  the  Indians  had  done  no  injury 
to  them.  When  the  time  came  for  the  return  of 
the  native  company  to  their  villages,  one  of  the 
four  men,  who  had  been  growing  thoughtful  and 
reserved,  arose  and  prepared  to  go  back  with  them. 
"  How's  this  ?"  asked  Cortez.  "  Have  you  left 
something  with  these  people,  Alvarez  ?" 
"  Yes,"  answered  the  man.  "  My  heart." 
A  shout  of  incredulous  laughter  went  up  from 
the  troop  at  this. 

"  I  beg  you,  captain  and  gentlemen,  forgive  me 
if  I  have  something  lost  the  fashion  of  nice  speech 
in  my  five  or  six  years  with  the  natives,  but  let  me 
tell  you  that  you  misprise  some  of  the  noblest 
attributes  in  human  nature  when  you  set  down 
these  men  as  savages.  As  you  may  know,  sir  cap- 
tain, I  was  a  bit  of  a  scholar  in  Spain,  and  I  came 
here  full  of  contempt  for  these  untaught  sons  of 
nature.  But  I  soon  had  to  own,  with  humility, 
that  all  knowledge  is  not  in  books,  that  all  courage 
is  not  the  soldier's  courage,  best  of  all,  that  hap- 
piness and  content  are  not  in  the  far  future.  I 
have  shaped  my  way  of  life  to  that  of  this  race, 
my  people  henceforth  ;  not  masters,  but  brothers. 
Warlike  and  passionate  they  are  when  dealing 
with  enemies,  but  peaceful  and  loving  at  home. 
How  is  it  with  you  ?     They  live  up  to  their  laws 

267 


Myths  and  Legends 

at  all  times.  How  is  it  with  you  ?  They  are  free 
from  all  greed  of  possession  and  pride  of  place. 
How  is  it  with  you  ?  You  say  they  are  heathen. 
Behind  the  symbols  of  their  faith  they  see  the  same 
truths  you  affect  to  worship,  and  they  do  not  make 
converts  with  cannon,  sword,  and  rack.  They  use 
signs  and  images  ?  Yes,  but  what  do  I  see  in  the 
hands  and  on  the  girdles  of  your  priests  ?  You 
ask  me  to  follow  you,  to  share  in  the  gold  you  in- 
tend to  get,  I  can  guess  how.  What  will  gold 
do  for  me  ?  It  will  make  toys  for  my  children  : 
nothing  more.  For  I  have  taken  a  wife  from 
among  this  people,  and  with  them  I  cast  my  lot. 
You  will  risk  life,  health,  some  of  you  will  risk 
honor,  for  the  treasure  of  the  Aztecs.  I  will  keep 
life,  health,  and  honor,  for  my  treasure  is  won. 
Adieu."  And,  with  a  bow  to  Cortez,  Alvarez 
beckoned  to  his  Indians  and  strode  away  into  the 
forest. 

THE  DEATH-DANCE  OF  TEZCATLI- 
POCA 

TEZCATLIPOCA,  the  Mephistopheles  and 
Hercules  of  Mexican  mythology,  wanted  to 
gain  power  over  the  Toltecs,  or,  if  he  failed  in 
that,  to  destroy  them,  and  to  this  end  he  sought  an 
alliance  with  the  daughter  of  Vemac,  their  king. 
He  put  on  his  best  appearance,  and  not  much  else, 
for  though  he  could  change  his  form  he  chose  to 

268 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

enter  Tula  as  a  naked  boor  from  the  hills,  peddling 
green  peppers.  Looking  over  the  market-place, 
the  girl  saw  the  fellow,  and  in  spite  of  his  low 
trade  and  apparent  poverty  her  heart  went  out  to 
him,  for  he  was  tall  and  strong  and  handsome. 
King  Vemac  noticed  presently  that  the  girl  had 
grown  sickly  and  silent,  and  he  asked  her  maids 
what  ailed  her.  They  were  obliged  to  tell  him 
that  she  suffered  for  love  of  a  peddler  who  called 
himself  Toveyo,  and  was  like  to  die  if  he  refused 
her  love.  At  that  the  king  sent  a  crier  to  the 
echoing  mount  of  Tzatzitepec,  calling  on  Toveyo 
to  show  himself  at  the  palace.  Days  passed,  and 
the  people  sought  eagerly  in  every  part  of  the 
province,  for  the  life  of  the  princess  was  in  peril, 
so  sick  was  she  for  love.  They  had  no  success, 
and  great  was  the  surprise  of  all  when  the  man 
appeared  in  the  market-place  with  a  fresh  lot  of 
peppers  for  sale.  The  king  sought  him  at  once. 
"  Where  do  you  belong  ?"  he  asked. 

"  I  am  a  foreigner,"  quoth  the  peddler. 

"  Why  do  you  come  here  without  a  blanket,  and 
with  not  even  breeches  to  cover  you  ?" 

"  Such  things  are  not  the  custom  in  my  land." 

"  Then  come  with  me  and  you  shall  be  clothed, 
for  my  daughter  perishes  of  love  for  you,  and  you 
must  cure  her." 

"  I  am  not  worthy  to  meet  the  daughter  of  a 
king,  nor  even  to  hear  your  words.  Let  me  rather 
die,  for  I  am  humble  and  poor." 

269 


Myths  and  Legends 

But  he  was  bidden  to  have  no  fear ;  and  so  they 
took  the  scamp  to  the  palace,  and  after  he  had 
bathed,  had  his  hair  cut,  and  dyed  his  body  hand- 
somely, he  was  richly  dressed  and  led  into  the 
presence  of  the  princess,  who  could  not  conceal 
her  joy,  as  women  commonly  think  it  meet  to  do 
in  the  like  event,  but  was  quickly  won  and  wedded  ; 
and  seeing  how  good  a  figure  was  made  by  this  new 
son-in-law,  the  king  was  half  inclined  toward  him, 
even  though  he  had  been  a  peddler.  But  the 
people  grumbled,  "  Was  there  not  among  us  all 
a  Toltec  who  could  have  wedded  this  princess  ? 
Could  the  king  find  no  husband  for  her  but  an 
alien  and  a  huckster  who  had  not  even  riches 
enough  to  go  in  rags  ?" 

These  things  came  to  the  ears  of  the  king  and 
made  him  fear  an  estrangement  from  his  people ; 
nor  was  he  truly  proud  of  this  Toveyo,  who  had 
sold  peppers  under  his  windows.  The  Toltecs 
about  this  time  were  having  one  of  their  usual 
wars  with  Cacatepec  and  Coatepec,  and  the  king 
secretly  urged  his  generals  to  take  Toveyo  to  the 
front  with  them  and  lose  him.  A  brigade  of 
dwarfs  and  cripples  was  organized  for  Toveyo,  and 
on  arriving  on  the  field  he  was  placed  in  an  ad- 
vanced post  of  danger,  with  instructions  to  hold  it 
while  the  trained  troops  led  the  attack  in  another 
quarter.  After  a  feint  at  a  charge  the  Toltecs  pre- 
tended to  be  driven  back  in  panic,  leaving  Toveyo 
and  his  invalids  to  get  away  as  they  might,  for  no- 

270 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

body  waited  to  see  whether  they  were  saved  or 
slaughtered.  Arrived  once  more  in  Tula,  the  gen- 
erals told  the  king  how  they  had  betrayed  his 
son-in-law  to  presumptive  death,  and  all  except  the 
princess  rejoiced  greatly.  Presently  a  cripple  came 
hobbling  from  the  front  with  news.  Toveyo  had 
beaten  the  men  of  Cacatepec  and  Coatepec,  and 
would  be  back  before  dark.  A  good  face  must  be 
put  upon  the  matter.  The  troops  who  had  run 
away  must  honor  the  troops  who  stayed,  and  this 
they  did  with  better  will  than  they  had  felt  in 
going  to  war,  for  the  fellow  had  courage,  though 
he  was  a  vender.  So  the  peddler  of  green  pep- 
pers and  his  army  of  knock-knees  and  hunchbacks 
marched  into  Tula  to  the  music  of  flute  bands,  the 
dancing  of  maidens,  and  a  brave  show  of  arms, 
shields,  and  feather  dresses.  Every  man  of  the 
victorious  troop  was  painted  yellow,  with  his  face 
red,  and  plumes  in  his  hair,  for  these  were  the 
signs  of  success,  and  the  king  said  to  Toveyo, 
"  Son-in-law,  the  Toltecs  greet  you,  for  you  have 
proved  brave  in  the  fight  and  quick  in  leadership. 
You  are  worthy  to  be  of  us.  Therefore  enter  the 
palace  and  be  at  ease."  Toveyo  saluted  and  kept 
silence,  but  he  laughed  in  his  heart. 

Soon  after  he  sent  a  crier  to  Mount  Tzatzitepec 
to  call  all  the  people  to  Tula,  to  a  great  dance  and 
feast,  and  they  came,  a  countless  throng.  Standing 
among  them  on  the  plain  of  Texcalapa,  he  led  the 
dance,  marking  the  time  on  a  drum.     Unknown  to 

271 


Myths  and  Legends 

the  others,  this  was  a  magic  drum,  and  so  long  as 
he  played  all  must  dance.  Hour  after  hour  its 
thump  sounded  above  the  song,  but  faster  and 
faster.  The  sweat  poured  from  the  leaping  com- 
pany, their  breath  grew  thick  and  short,  yet  they 
could  not  stop.  Toveyo  artfully  moved  toward 
the  ravine  of  the  Texcaltlauco,  and  the  multitude 
followed,  blind,  bewitched.  He  broke  the  stone 
bridge  as  he  crossed  it,  and,  jumping  to  the  oppo- 
site bank,  beat  his  drum  still  more  quickly  and 
fiercely.  On  came  the  mob,  singing,  still  stepping 
in  time  to  the  drum,  and  he  roared  in  delight  as 
they  went  over  the  edge  into  the  canon  and  became 
stones  on  the  ledges  below. 

OTHER   WILES   OF   THE   EVIL   GOD 

TEZCATLIPOCA  was  not  satisfied  with  the 
mischief  he  had  wrought  at  Texcalapa.  He 
knew  the  reverence  of  the  people  for  his  enemy, 
the  white  god,  and  summoned  them  all  to  work  in 
the  flower-garden  which  belonged  to  that  kind 
deity,  using  the  disguise  of  one  of  their  respected 
soldiers  when  he  called  them  together.  While  the 
people  were  bent  at  their  work  he  passed  down 
the  line  knocking  them  on  the  head  with  a  stout 
wooden  hoe,  and  in  this  he  exhibited  such  a  fury 
that  all  ran  away  who  could,  and  many  were  trod- 
den and  killed  in  the  panic.  He  lighted  the  peak 
of  Zacatepec,  and  the  Toltecs  nearly  died  in  their 

272 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

terror.  He  threw  stones  upon  them  in  showers, 
and  the  sight  of  one  great  meteor  was  so  appall- 
ing that  many  of  them  went  mad  and  ran  to  the 
blistering  hot  stone,  after  it  had  fallen,  as  to  an 
altar,  and  were  there  killed.  He  turned  all  pro- 
visions sour,  so  they  could  not  eat  them ;  then, 
disguised  as  an  old  woman,  he  roasted  maize  and 
threw  the  scent  of  it  to  every  quarter,  until  the 
people  became  delirious  with  appetite  and  ran  to 
the  house  in  the  white  god's  garden,  whence  the 
odor  came,  to  beg  or  buy  the  food.  As  each  one 
reached  the  door  Tezcatlipoca  struck  him  dead. 
At  another  time  this  god  sat  in  the  market-place  of 
Tula  with  a  dancing  manikin  in  his  hand,  and  the 
gaping  multitude  so  pressed  about  him  to  see  mira- 
cles that  many  had  their  breath  squeezed  out,  while 
others  fell  and  were  crushed.  Then  Tezcatlipoca 
cried,  in  derision,  "  You  fools !  Don't  you  see 
that  you  are  deceived  ?  You  kill  each  other  in- 
stead of  killing  us !"  This  angered  the  company. 
They  gathered  stones  out  of  the  street  and  killed 
the  sorcerer  and  his  manikin.  The  corpse  lay  so 
long  in  the  public  place  that  the  air  was  tainted  by 
it  and  the  people  were  sickened,  yet  none  could 
move  it.  The  corpse  itself  demanded  to  be  cast 
out  of  the  town,  and  the  crier  summoned  all  the 
people  to  bear  a  hand.  A  long  rope  was  tied  to 
the  neck  of  the  carcass,  and  the  men  bent  back 
with  a  will.  Snap  went  the  rope,  and  down 
went  the  men,  who,  striking  on  their  heads  on  the 
18  273 


Myths  and  Legends 

stones,  became  as  soundly  dead  as  Tezcatlipoca  was 
not.  Again  they  hauled,  again  the  rope  broke, 
and  again  several  were  killed.  Then  said  the 
corpse,  "  You  need  a  song.  Sing  after  me."  And 
he  intoned  a  verse,  which  the  Toltecs  sang  in 
unison,  pulling  together  at  certain  words,  just  as 
sailors  do  at  the  heaviest  part  of  a  lift ;  and  so  the 
body  was  taken  out,  though  not  till  more  lives  had 
been  lost  in  the  moving.  When  the  survivors 
returned  to  their  homes  they  could  remember 
nothing  of  all  this,  for  it  was  as  if  they  had  been 
drunk. 


THE   AZTEC   TANNHAUSER 

THE  Venus  of  Mexico  was  Tlazoleotl,  a  god- 
dess of  lustrous  beauty,  who  lived  in  the 
ninth  heaven  in  a  garden  of  many  delights,  attended 
by  little,  misshapen  people  and  clowns  who  danced 
and  sang  for  her  and  ran  with  messages.  No- 
where else  were  such  sparkling  waters,  nowhere 
else  such  glorious  flowers,  nowhere  else  such  luring 
eyes  as  hers.  She  was  bold  in  her  amours  and 
made  others  love  on  whom  she  cast  her  spell,  for 
if  one  but  touched  a  blossom  in  her  garden  of 
Xochiquetzal  he  would  love  constantly.  Weaving 
and  spinning  a  gorgeous  fabric,  she  looked  earth- 
ward, and  on  the  lonely  pillar  of  rock  called 
Tehuehuetl  she  saw  a  naked,  wasted  man.  This 
devotee,  Yappan,  had  separated  himself  from  the 

274 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

world,  the  flesh,  and  the  eighty-seven  devils,  and 
retired  to  this  lonely  pinnacle  to  pray  and  purify 
himself.  The  gods  set  his  enemy,  Yaotl,  to  spy 
upon  him,  to  see  that  he  kept  his  place  and  his 
intention,  and,  indeed,  he  would  not  look  on  the 
women  whom  the  gods  sent  down  from  time  to 
time  to  tempt  him.  He  began  to  rise  in  the  esti- 
mation of  the  watchers  in  the  sky,  and  they  de- 
bated as  to  how  soon  he  might  be  translated  and 
become  as  one  of  them.  But  Tlazoleotl,  angry 
that  love  and  beauty  should  be  spurned,  though  in 
the  desert,  cried  to  the  other  gods,  "  Do  not  sup- 
pose that  your  hero  can  resist  my  charm.  He  can- 
not come  to  heaven  yet.  His  vow  is  worthless." 
She  descended  to  the  rock,  unveiled  her  shining 
form,  and  said,  "  Brother,  I  am  Tlazoleotl.  I 
come  to  comfort  you  after  your  weary  vigils  in  this 
place,  for  I  admire  your  constancy  and  am  sorry 
for  your  pains."  Then  the  watchful  spy  was  glad, 
for  the  goddess  had  conquered,  and  her  lover  and 
victim  lay  on  the  rock  whence  she  had  vanished, 
imploring  mercy  and  beating  his  breast  in  self- 
contempt.  Yaotl  stole  upon  Yappan,  and  with  a 
slash  of  his  stone  axe  struck  his  head  from  his 
shoulders.  The  gods  turned  Yappan  into  a  scor- 
pion, whose  forearms  are  often  lifted,  praying,  and 
he  crawled  under  the  stone  where  he  had  dwelt, 
while  Yaotl  hurried  away  to  the  village  where  the 
pious  man's  wife  lived,  led  her  to  the  rock  on 
which  Yappan  had  perished,  told  her  the  story  of 

275 


Myths  and  Legends 

his  failure,  sin,  and  death,  and  while  she  wept  smote 
off  her  head  too.  She  also  became  a  scorpion 
and  joined  her  husband,  and  from  these  two  have 
come  all  the  scorpions  that  hide  beneath  stones  in 
shame  and  fear.  But  Yaotl  had  been  too  eager  in 
his  enmity  to  the  fallen  saint,  and  he  had  no  ex- 
cuse for  slaying  his  wife,  so  the  gods  turned  him 
into  a  locust, — a  food  for  scorpions. 

HUITZILOPOCHTLI 

AMONG  the  many  gods  of  the  ancients  in 
Mexico  none  had  higher  estimation  than 
Huitzilopochtli,  or  Vitziliputzli,  god  of  the  air  and 
god  of  war.  He  was  born  in  the  city  of  Tula 
after  a  miraculous  conception.  His  mother,  Coa- 
tilcue,  renowned  for  the  uprightness  of  her  life, 
was  walking  in  the  temple  court  when  a  ball  of 
gay  feathers  fell  from  the  sunlit  sky.  She  caught 
it  in  her  hand  and  put  it  into  her  bosom,  intending 
to  decorate  the  altar  with  it,  but  at  the  end  of  her 
walk  it  had  disappeared,  and  she  discovered,  to  her 
astonishment,  that  she  was  about  to  become  a 
mother.  She  already  had  many  children,  who 
said  that  she  was  dishonored,  and  they  planned  to 
kill  her ;  but  the  unborn  god  cried  to  her  not  to 
fear,  that  he  would  avert  the  danger  and  bring 
renown  upon  her.  And  with  a  war-whoop  that 
rang  through  the  city  he  leaped  into  being,  full- 
grown,  plumed  and  painted  for  battle,  a  spear  and 

276 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

shield  in  his  hands.  He  fell  upon  his  brothers 
and  slew  them  for  their  meditated  cruelty,  and 
took  the  name  of  Tezahuitl,  the  Terror.  Like 
Moses,  he  led  his  people  through  the  wilderness 
for  many  years,  to  find  the  best  land  for  their 
homes.  He  introduced  dress  and  other  comforts, 
made  laws,  invented  ceremonies,  and  conferred  on 
his  people  the  gift  of  fire.  Gigantic  statues  of 
him  were  set  up  in  his  temple,  and  to  him  were 
offered  more  sacrifices  than  to  any  other  of  the 
deities.  It  was  believed  in  after-years  that  the 
devil  spoke  through  his  skull — his  bones  were 
canonized  in  Tenochtitlan — and  ordered  these  cru- 
elties. Around  his  temple  in  the  city  of  Mexico 
were  rows  of  trees  joined  by  rods,  rank  on  rank 
of  them.  From  the  feet  of  the  trees  nearly  to 
their  tops  these  rods  were  hung  with  the  heads  of 
prisoners  who  had  been  slain  on  his  altars.  When 
they  fell  to  fragments  others  were  put  in  their 
places.  He  himself  showed  in  what  way  he  pre- 
ferred his  sacrifices,  for  his  priests  having  offended 
him,  he  fell  upon  them  in  the  night,  cut  them 
open,  pulled  their  hearts  out,  and  this  abominable 
method  prevailed  until  the  arrival  of  the  Spaniards, 
who  did  that  much  of  good,  at  all  events  :  they 
stopped  religious  murder,  their  own  murders  being 
merely  those  of  policy  and  conquest.  Images  of 
the  war-god  were  made  of  dough  kneaded  by  the 
priests  with  the  blood  of  children,  and  to  such 
images  the    people    thronged   with   offerings,   and 

277 


Myths  and  Legends 

deemed  themselves  blessed  if  they  could  touch  the 
object,  even  as  others  struggle  to  kiss  and  touch 
holy  relics  in  Italy  and  New  York  in  our  own  day. 
In  some  places  an  image  of  this  god,  made  of 
bread,  was  broken  and  eaten  by  the  populace  every 
year,  the  women  alone  being  forbidden  to  eat  of 
it.  Slaves  were  bought  and  fattened  for  his  altars, 
and  it  is  said  that  human  sacrifice  began  in  his 
temples,  the  first  one  occurring  in  the  thirteenth  or 
fourteenth  century.  Others  say  that  the  first  sacri- 
fices were  made  by  the  Aztecs  while  they  were 
captives  of  the  Culhuas.  They  did  not  dare  to 
attack  their  masters,  but  they  showed  their  willing- 
ness to  shed  blood,  and  revealed  a  dangerous  power 
by  falling  upon  and  slaying  four  captives,  ripping 
out  their  hearts  and  throwing  them  into  the  lap  of 
a  stone  statue  of  Huitzilopochtli.  This  frightened 
the  Culhuas,  and  they  let  them  start  on  their  long 
migration.  While  most  of  the  sacrifices  were  of  cap- 
tives, some  were  of  young  men  who  were  solemnly 
slain,  after  a  month  or  so  of  liberty  and  feasting, 
that  they  might  bear  messages,  complaints,  compli- 
ments, and  prayers  to  the  gods.  But  happiest  was 
the  soldier  who  died  in  battle  defending  his  country, 
for  he  was  caught  up  from  the  field  by  the  wife  of 
Huitzilopochtli  and  taken  to  the  sun-house  that 
stood  in  the  eastern  heavens  amid  gardens  of  fruit 
and  honey-yielding  flowers,  and  wide  pastures 
where  game  abounded.  Every  morning  when  the 
sun  left  his  home  the   translated  warriors   marched 

278 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

before  him,  flourishing  their  spears,  that  seemed 
like  light-rays,  and  singing  their  proud  songs  of 
battle. 


THE   WAR-GOD   TAKES   A   BRIDE 

IT  is  said  that  Huitzilopochtli  wearied  of  mere 
punishment  sacrifices — the  offering  of  beaten 
armies  on  his  altars — and  longed  for  a  fairer  gift. 
He  was  lonely  :  he  wished  for  a  sister,  a  compan- 
ion, a  wife.  So  he  afflicted  the  earth  for  a  time, 
as  a  sign  of  his  displeasure  and  his  need,  that  the 
oracles  might  tell  the  inquiring  people  what  to  do. 
It  may  have  been  a  long  rain,  a  drouth,  a  plague,  a 
series  of  hurricanes  ;  whatever  it  was,  the  populace 
groaned  and  asked  the  priests  how  they  might  avert 
its  continuance,  and  the  priests,  inspired  by  the 
god,  bade  the  Aztec  emperor  send  a  princess  to 
him.  A  messenger  was  despatched  to  the  king  of 
the  Culhuacans,  to  beg  that  he  would  honor  his 
favorite  daughter  by  making  her  the  bride  of  the 
war-god  and  sharer  of  his  throne.  Flattered  and 
frightened,  for  he  had  reason  to  hold  the  Aztecs, 
as  well  as  the  god,  in  fear,  realizing,  too,  that  un- 
less he  brought  the  affliction  of  the  people  to  a 
quick  end  they  would  not  be  slow  to  avenge  the 
selfishness  of  his  love  with  the  destruction  of  him- 
self and  his  family,  the  king  took  a  tearful  farewell 
of  his  daughter,  who  in  gorgeous  robes  and  flowers 

279 


Myths  and  Legends 

was  escorted  to  the  altar.  The  pomps  having  been 
observed  and  the  murder  committed,  a  ceremony 
followed  which  consisted  in  the  flaying  of  the  vic- 
tim and  a  public  wearing  of  the  skin  by  the  priest 
who  had  taken  the  life.  With  good  intention, 
doubtless,  but  with  a  refinement  of  cruelty,  the 
Aztec  emperor  asked  the  king  to  attend  his  girl's 
deification.  He  entered  the  temple  after  the  kill- 
ing, for  that  he  could  not  bear,  and  was  groping 
his  way  forward  in  the  darkness,  when  a  copal 
torch  flashed  up  and  he  saw  the  priest  beside  Huit- 
zilopochtli's  statue,  receiving  the  homage  of  the 
multitude  and  dressed  in  the  freshly  stripped  skin, 
that  still  bore  a  ghastly  suggestion  of  the  victim. 
The  king  shuddered  and  moaned  in  grief  and 
horror  and  rushed  from  the  place  to  vent  his  sor- 
row beneath  the  stars.  The  stars  ?  Yes,  there 
was  comfort.  Was  not  one  of  them  now  his  daugh- 
ter ?     If  only  he  could  know  the  one ! 

EL   DORADO 

EL  DORADO  (the  Gilded)  has  come  to  be  a 
term  signifying  a  wealthy  place,  a  wealthy 
land,  a  paying  enterprise.  It  means  nothing  of 
the  kind,  however.  It  relates  to  a  gilded  youth, 
and  here  again  tradition  justifies  a  common  phrase. 
He  was  a  Chibcha  chief,  who  anointed  his  body 
with  fragrant  gums,  and  over  whom  his  priests  twice 
a  day  blew  gold-dust,  through  a  bamboo.     In  1536 

280 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

three  expeditions  set  out  for  the  conquest  of  the 
present  republic  of  Colombia  :  Fredemann's  troop, 
from  Venezuela ;  Quesada's,  which  ascended  the 
Magdalena  River ;  and  Pizarro's,  that  went  up 
from  Peru  in  charge  of  Benalcazar.  Oddly  enough, 
they  reached  the  plain  of  Bogota  almost  together, 
Fredemann's  company  arrayed  in  skins,  Quesada's 
dressed  like  the  natives,  and  Benalcazar's  in  glitter- 
ing armor,  with  banners.  Quesada  had  divided 
two  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  dollars  in  gold  and 
two  thousand  emeralds  among  his  men  before  he 
met  the  others,  but  none  of  them  had  seen  El  Do- 
rado, from  whose  coffers  they  expected  to  plunder 
gold  and  gems  far  in  excess  of  this,  and  the  wealth 
alleged  to  have  been  stored  in  the  temple  of  Suamoz 
was  never  taken  out  of  its  ruins.  Its  priest  fired 
it  on  the  approach  of  the  Spaniards  and  was  crushed 
by  the  tumbling  walls,  with  him  perishing  "  the 
traditions  of  a  people  and  the  history  of  a  nation," 
Gold  was  picked  up  in  other  temples,  and  to  this 
day  is  found  in  ancient  graves.  Ornaments  and 
images  of  the  metal  have  been  discovered  in  the 
sabana,  the  lagoons  of  which  are  thought  to  have 
been  held  sacred.  Their  sanctity  may  have  arisen 
from  some  tradition  of  the  tremendous  cataclysm 
by  which  the  great  lake  that  once  filled  this  valley 
was  drained  through  the  gorge  of  the  Tequendama. 
With  the  lowering  of  the  waters  were  revealed  the 
gold-bearing  ledges  and  gravels  that  furnished  to 
the  Indians  a  wealth  abundant  and  unprized. 

2S1 


Myths  and  Legends 

El  Dorado  ruled  in  Manoa,  a  city  that  may  have 
been  some  other  than  the  predecessor  of  Bogota. 
On  state  occasions  he  showed  himself  to  his  peo- 
ple all  shining  with  gold,  and  threw  metals,  emer- 
alds, and  such  gifts  into  a  sacred  lake,  where  he 
bathed  presently.  In  addition  to  the  three  ex- 
peditions named,  others  essayed  the  mountain 
country  in  various  directions,  and,  while  El  Do- 
rado eluded  them,  considerable  geography  was 
added  to  the  world's  meagre  store  of  that  science. 
Orellana  declared  that  he  found  El  Dorado  in  a 
voyage  down  the  Amazon  in  1540,  but  he  didn't. 
He  may  not  have  been  a  wilful  liar,  however,  be- 
cause the  practice  alleged  of  the  Colombian  natives 
may  have  been  followed  elsewhere,  and  may,  in- 
deed, be  the  source  of  the  El  Dorado  story.  It 
was  that  of  anointing  and  gilding  a  chief  on  a  cer- 
tain festival,  the  gilded  one  personifying  the  sun. 
It  is  a  wee  bit  unlikely  that  any  man  could  endure 
to  be  gummed  and  gold-plated  for  any  length  of 
time.  The  clogging  of  his  skin-pores  would  at 
least  injure  his  complexion.  It  is  related  of  a  boy 
who  was  gilded  and  carried  in  a  religious  proces- 
sion, to  represent  the  infant  Christ  effulgent,  that 
he  died  in  a  few  hours,  because  he  could  not  per- 
spire. The  Spaniards  never  thought  upon  these 
matters.  They  were  willing  to  perspire,  some, 
themselves  if  they  could  only  get  the  gold  that 
had  been  won  by  the  sweat  of  other  people. 


282 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

THE   DWARF'S   HOUSE 

UXMAL  has  three  famous  ruins,  the  palace 
of  Las  Monjas,  the  Governor's  House,  and 
the  Dwarf's  House,  which  are  monuments  of  an 
extinct  civilization,  and  remarkable  for  the  sound- 
ness of  the  masonry  and  the  richness  of  their  deco- 
ration. The  Dwarf's  House  crowns  a  steep  mound 
a  hundred  feet  high.  It  contains  three  rooms  deco- 
rated with  masonic  symbols,  with  an  elephant's 
head  above  the  entrance.  A  curtain  formerly  con- 
cealed the  rites  and  tragedies  enacted  within.  Its 
story  is  this  :  The  son  of  a  famous  witch  was  a 
favorite  among  the  people,  although  he  was  a  mere 
dwarf  in  size.  They  courted  him,  because  they 
feared  his  mother.  The  gifts  and  flattery  lavished 
on  this  little  creature  excited  the  jealousy  of  the 
king,  who,  pretending  kindness,  took  him  into  his 
family  and  by  gradually  increasing  honors  that  in- 
volved the  doing  of  much  work  he  hoped  to  ex- 
haust the  boy  and  bring  him  into  contempt  for 
disobedience,  that  he  might  punish  him  with  death. 
But  with  the  help  of  his  mother  the  boy  always 
managed  to  do  what  was  required  of  him.  At  last 
the  king  ordered  him  to  build  a  mound  and  a  house 
on  its  top  in  a  single  night.  He  ran  home,  crying, 
"  Mother,  I  am  dead.  This  task  is  beyond  me." 
And  he  told  her  what  he  had  been  commanded  to  do. 
"  Do  not  be  troubled,"  answered  the  sorceress. 
"All  will  be  well  in  the  morning." 

283 


Myths  and  Legends 

Sure  enough,  there  stood  the  mound  and  the 
house  at  sunrise.  Though  secretly  enraged,  the 
king  thanked  the  dwarf  and  expressed  his  pleasure 
in  the  work.  "  And  now,"  said  he,  "  I  give  you 
my  daughter  in  marriage.  Only,  it  will  be  a  con- 
dition that  I  first  break  six  cocoyoles  on  your  head." 

"  But  I  don't  wish  to  marry,  and  I  am  not  so 
vain  or  ambitious  as  to  expect  to  wed  into  the  fam- 
ily of  a  king.  As  to  the  nuts,  I  know  that  coco- 
yoles are  very  hard,  and  while  my  skull  is  as  thick  as 
some  others,  I  doubt  if  it  will  stand  the  thumping." 

"  Pah  !  A  mere  ceremony.  Surely  a  princess 
is  worth  a  twinge." 

The  dwarf  ran  back  to  his  mother.  "  He  will 
surely  kill  me  now,"  he  said ;  and  he  told  of  his 
fresh  misfortune. 

"  Go  back  and  tell  the  king  that  you  will  let  him 
break  the  nuts  against  your  head  if,  afterward,  he 
will  let  you  break  the  same  number  against  his." 

The  dwarf  asked  if  this  agreement  would  please 
his  majesty,  and  the  king  laughed  his  willingness. 
He  intended  to  kill  the  dwarf  at  the  first  blow. 
But  the  witch  had  rubbed  a  magic  ointment  on  her 
son's  head,  so  that  it  was  like  iron,  and  though  the 
king  broke  all  six  of  the  cocoyoles  over  his  head, 
the  youth  did  not  even  wink.  Greatly  disappointed 
and  much  astonished,  the  king  pretended  to  con- 
gratulate the  dwarf  on  his  courage  and  the  firmness 
of  his  bones.  Then,  with  some  misgivings,  he 
placed  his  own   head  on  the  earth,  to  undergo  the 

284 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

same  test.  He  did  not  survive  it.  The  first  blow 
smashed  the  cocovol,  but  also  cracked  the  monarch's 
pate.  The  test  had  been  fair.  The  dwarf  had 
proved  himself  the  stouter  of  the  two.  So  the 
populace  buried  the  king  and  placed  the  dwarf  on 
his  throne,  while  his  marriage  to  the  princess  was 
celebrated  with  great  splendor. 

WHY   VALDEZ   BOUGHT    PRAYERS 

BEFORE  the  railroad  days  Juan  Valdez  was 
the  engineer  of  a  mule-train  that  plied  be- 
tween Monterey  and  Guadalajara.  It  was  rough 
travel,  with  steep  grades,  and,  with  to-morrow 
always  ahead  of  one,  why  should  a  freighter  ex- 
pect to  cover  more  than  four  or  five  miles  in  a 
day  ?  Coming  o*  this  easy  fashion  to  Saltillo,  on 
one  journey,  Valdez  went  to  the  cathedral  to  give 
thanks  that  he  had,  so  far,  been  preserved  from 
brigands  and  broken  harness,  and  perhaps  to  pray 
in  secret  that  he  might  have  a  few  worthy  temp- 
tations thrown  in  his  way  during  the  next  week. 
Returning  toward  his  wagons  in  the  light  of  a 
young  moon,  he  passed  an  old  adobe  house,  large, 
though  a  single  story  high,  whose  ruin  was  so  par- 
ticularly mournful  that  he  paused  before  it  and 
waited  to  hear  a  night-bird's  call,  as  if  he  were 
sure  it  would  come  out  of  the  rank  trees  that  had 
grown  up  in  the  patio  and  leaned  over  the  skeleton 
roof.     There  was  no  hurry,  so   he  loitered  about 

285 


Myths  and  Legends 

the  place,  held  by  a  sort  of  fascination,  and  finally 
entered  the  court,  stirring  dust  out  of  the  rotting 
timbers  that  he  kicked,  evolving  melancholy  smells 
of  decay,  and  bringing  at  last  the  startling  quaver 
that  he  had  expected  from  the  trees, — a  bird's  pro- 
test. Over  an  old  well  in  the  middle  of  the  patio 
dangled  a  rope,  swinging  in  the  breeze.  Pshaw  ! 
It  was  too  saddening.  He  would  go  up  to  the 
plaza  where  all  the  people  were,  and  hear  the 
band  play.      Yet — look  !     He  is  not  alone. 

In  a  little  space  of  light,  so  phosphorescent  that 
he  seems  to  carry  it,  stands  a  child,  looking  from 
the  door  of  the  hall.  It  is  a  poor,  misshapen 
little  thing,  hump-backed,  hollow-chested,  with 
one  short  leg,  and  it  holds  its  hands  out  to  feel  its 
way,  as  though  its  eyes  were  poor.  Great,  sad 
eyes  they  are,  and  the  face  is  that  of  a  being  who 
has  never  known  love  or  tenderness.  Valdez's 
heart  goes  out  to  it.  With  a  simple  gesture  the 
boy  beckons  to  the  teamster  and  limps  through  a 
gap  in  what  had  been  the  stable,  as  if  expecting 
the  man  to  follow.  This  he  does,  for  his  curiosity 
is  now  keen,  though  he  stops  to  mutter  an  ave 
when  the  boy  swings  open  a  rickety  door  and  de- 
scends into  a  cellar, — an  unusual  adjunct  of  a 
Mexican  house.  But  it  is  not  a  cellar :  it  is  a 
vault,  through  which  flows  the  water  that  supplies 
the  well.  Where  the  light  comes  from  now 
Valdez  does  not  know  ;  yet  there  is  light  in  the 
place,  at  least  enough  to  see  that  two  other  figures 

286 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

have  come  down  the  stair  behind  him.  He  can 
hear  his  own  heart  going  like  a  hammer.  Why- 
has  he  been  lured  down  here  ?  The  two  others 
have  not  seen  him,  and  he  stands  breathless.  The 
boy  is  looking  into  the  water  and  has  not  seen 
them  either.  Heaven  !  What  creatures !  One 
is  a  man  with  a  purple  face  and  a  neck  marked  by 
a  rope.  His  head  swings  loosely  on  his  shoulders, 
as  if  he  could  not  raise  it.  The  other  is  a  woman 
with  streaks  of  blue  in  her  flesh.  Corruption  has 
set  in.  Both  look  with  hate  at  the  child,  then  smile 
meaningly.  They  steal  forward.  The  woman 
clutches  the  boy.  The  man  pulls  out  a  knife. 
Once — twice — it  falls.  A  splash  is  heard.  The 
two  exchange  a  look,  half  fright,  half  joy.  Then 
it  is  very  dark.  Nearly  crazed  with  terror,  Valdez 
stumbles  up  the  stairs,  rips  and  crashes  through  the 
weeds  and  rotting  beams,  and  regains  the  quiet 
street.  Pistol  in  hand,  he  waits  to  see  if  he  is 
followed.  No  :  it  is  all  still  in  there.  He  goes 
back  to  the  cathedral,  rouses  a  sleepy  priest,  and 
counts  a  dozen  silver  reals  into  his  hand.  "  Pray 
out  of  purgatory,"  he  says,  "  the  soul  of  a  little 
cripple  who  has  been  murdered  by  his  parents." 

"  In  this  city  ?" 

"  In  this  city." 

"  When  ?" 

"  Alas,  father,  I  cannot  tell.  Perhaps  it  was  years 
ago.     But  I  saw  the  murder  done — to-night." 


287 


Myths  and  Legends 

FATHER   JOSE'S   LOVE 

FIERCE  troubles  came  upon  New  Spain  as  the 
seventeenth  century  was  drawing  to  its  end, 
and  the  stout  old  soldier,  Diego  de  Vargas,  was 
hurried  north  to  crush  the  Pueblos  in  their  strong- 
holds. As  lieutenant  he  took  his  son,  Jose,  despite 
the  setting  of  the  march  for  the  very  day  whereon 
the  young  man  was  to  have  married  Dona  Ana  de 
Ornate.  The  sadness  of  the  parting  was  softened, 
so  much  as  might  be,  by  assurances  that  the  troops 
would  soon  return,  and  who  knew  but  they  might 
bring  some  of  the  wealth  of  Cibola  with  them  ? 
In  that  event  the  Dona  Ana  should  be  jewelled  like 
a  queen,  should  live  in  the  fairest  hacienda  in 
Mexico,  should  have  slaves  and  servants,  and  a 
gilded  carriage ;  yes,  if  she  chose,  she  should  live 
in  old  Spain  and  ruffle  it  with  the  proudest  of 
the  old  families.  And  so,  watched  through  tear- 
dimmed  eyes,  the  troop  set  off. 

The  Indians  were  not  so  easily  put  down.  They 
were  fighting  for  their  homes,  their  religion,  their 
lives,  and  they  fought  well.  Nearly  two  years 
passed  before  the  army  went  back  to  Mexico  City, 
worn,  broken,  sadly  less  in  numbers.  They  had 
beaten  the  red  men,  but  it  had  cost  many  lives  and 
two  human  hearts  to  do  it,  for  on  a  report  that 
Jose  had  been  killed  in  battle  Ana  had  withdrawn 
to  a  convent;  and  finding  that  he  was  thus  de- 
serted, Jose  cursed  the  church  and  its  priests  who 

288 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

had  robbed  him  of  his  treasure.  In  a  cooler  hour 
he  repented  this  frenzy.  He  begged  and  received 
comfort  from  the  blessed  Saint  Francis,  who  ap- 
peared to  him  in  a  dream,  promising  forgiveness  if 
he,  too,  would  live  the  religious  life.  The  world 
held  nothing  for  him  longer:  he  became  a  monk, 
asking  only  that  the  bishop  would  send  him  away 
from  a  city  where  the  sight  of  familiar  objects  kept 
memory  alive  to  torture  him.  So  he  was  ordered  to 
the  Franciscan  monastery  in  Monterey,  there  to  en- 
lighten and  gospel  the  heathen,  to  care  for  the  sick, 
to  teach  useful  arts,  and  all  this  he  did,  softened 
by  a  sincerity  of  repentance  for  his  blasphemy  and 
thankfulness  that  it  had  been  forgiven.  Though  he 
had  been  a  soldier  and  had  tasted  wild,  free  life,  his 
bent  was  toward  books  and  gentle  things,  and — he 
could  not  deny  it — toward  the  memory  of  that  fairest 
of  beings,  the  Dona  Ana.  He  could  pray  her  image 
out  of  his  mind  in  chapel,  but  in  his  dreams  he  was 
not  his  own  master,  and  neither  prayers,  fasts,  nor 
penances  could  prevent  the  rising  of  that  vision, 
pale,  appealing,  yes,  seductive,  at  his  bedside. 

Returning  on  a  hot  day  toward  the  monastery 
from  the  chapel  of  Our  Lady  of  Guadalupe,  where 
he  had  just  said  mass  for  a  company  of  stolid  In- 
dians, Father  Jose — he  kept  his  worldly  name — 
drooped  to  the  ground  in  the  shade  of  the  palms 
that  grow  below  the  chapel,  and  thought  and  suf- 
fered. Before  him  lay  a  tiny  palm  that  some  way- 
farer had  carelessly  plucked  up  and  tossed  upon 
ig  289 


Myths  and  Legends 

the  ground,  and  as  carelessly  he  took  it  up  and 
switched  the  dusty  earth  with  it ;  yet,  somehow, 
his  compassion  was  moved  for  its  thwarted  life  :  it 
recalled  his  own  ;  he  would  befriend  it.  Plunging 
it  into  an  irrigating  canal  that  flowed  lazily  and 
turbidly  past  him,  he  washed  it  free  of  dust  and 
felt  something  of  life  stir  in  the  wilted  leaves  and 
stem.  Then,  packing  it  in  moss,  he  walked  to  the 
town  more  hurriedly  than  usual,  and  planted  the 
little  thing  in  the  garden,  where  he  could  see  it 
from  his  cell.  He  tended  it  as  palms  are  seldom 
tended  in  that  country,  loosening  the  earth  at  its 
roots  when  it  became  hard,  freeing  it  from  scale 
and  insects,  picking  off  dead  leaves,  watering  it  in 
the  dry  season,  and  shortly  it  dawned  upon  him 
that  the  love  he  could  not  give  to  a  woman  he  was 
bestowing  on  a  tree.  Perhaps  in  its  grace,  its 
beauty,  its  uncertainty,  it  reminded  him  of  a 
woman,  and  he  felt  that  as  it  owed  its  life  and 
strength  to  his  care,  it  had  a  love  for  him.  It 
grew  prodigiously  and  was  most  fair  to  look  on, — 
as  you  may  see,  when  you  visit  Monterey, — and 
sitting  in  its  shadow,  his  arm  about  the  trunk,  he 
was  nearer  to  content. 

As  the  tree  gained  in  beauty  he  increased  in  age. 
His  face  was  sad  and  pale,  and  lines  were  cutting 
themselves  upon  it.  Then  came  the  fever,  the 
dreaded  typhus,  and  townsmen,  monks,  soldiers, 
Indians,  were  struck  down  as  in  a  battle.  He 
attended  them  constantly,  ministering  to  the  sick, 

290 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

praying  for  the  dying.  Every  house  was  a  hos- 
pital, and  for  the  first  time  the  Capuchina  nuns 
were  released,  and  went  into  the  town  to  give 
comfort  to  the  tortured  and  the  perishing, — a 
breach  of  vow  for  which  they  readily  gained  abso- 
lution from  Rome.  Worn  with  his  work,  Jose 
caught  the  fever  too,  and  at  its  height  he  had 
dragged  himself  to  his  cell  to  die.  Knowing  that 
his  end  was  near,  he  begged  the  brothers  to  carry 
him  to  his  palm-tree  and  so  leave  him.  He  leaned 
against  it  and  watched  the  great  peaks  in  the  west, 
toward  which  the  sun  was  sinking  as  fast  as  his  own 
life  ebbed  ;  but  it  was  sweet  to  end  the  world  like 
that ;  to  fade  like  the  day  ;  to  see  beauty  to  the 
last.  He  started.  His  pulse  leaped  wildly.  A 
woman  was  coming  up  the  path,  a  Capuchina. 
Their  eyes  met.  With  a  little  sob  and  cry  the 
woman  sank  to  her  knees  and  wet  his  hand  with 
her  tears.  It  was  Dona  Ana.  For  an  hour  they 
were  together,  calm,  after  the  first  agitation  had 
passed,  their  hands  clasped,  his  voice  growing 
fainter,  her  face  more  saintly  resigned.  Now  the 
sun  was  down.  A  wan  smile  struggled  over  the 
man's  lips;  a  breeze  shook  the  palm-leaves  over- 
head, and  he  raised  his  eyes  to  the  golden  glory  in 
the  sky.  Palm-leaves  ?  They  used  to  betoken 
victory.  The  Angelus  rang  out,  musical  and  sil- 
very, and  a  star  trembled  like  a  tear  on  the  brow 
of  Mitra.  It  was  an  hour  of  peace.  Father 
Jose's  long  unhappiness  was  over. 

291 


Myths  and  Legends 

THE   DEVIL   IN    PRISON 

TO  Ojinaja,  on  the  Rio  Grande,  came  a 
Spanish  priest  in  some  forgotten  year  of 
the  eighteenth  century,  and  set  up  his  abode  there 
among  the  Indians.  He  taught  Christianity,  which 
the  people  were  slow  to  accept,  and  he  sensibly 
avoided  any  attempt  to  force  his  religion  on  them, 
preferring  to  show  in  his  own  life  the  advantages 
that  enlightened  people  enjoyed  over  savages.  In 
time  his  good  offices  had  so  won  their  confidence 
that  he  gained  a  sort  of  chieftaincy  among  them, 
yet  they  clung  to  their  old  beliefs  and  secretly 
wearied  him  with  their  unreasonable  superstitions. 
At  length  a  visitor  arrived  in  Ojinaja  who  com- 
pletely changed  the  aspect  of  affairs  in  that  village, 
and  converted  every  Indian  to  the  true  faith  over- 
night.     That  visitor  was  the  devil. 

The  good  father  had  left  his  house  and  gone  up 
the  valley  for  his  evening  meditations,  and  had  been 
absent  for  a  couple  of  hours,  when  he  came  run- 
ning back  to  the  Indians,  crying  that  he  had  seen 
the  devil,  had  chased  him  up  the  side  of  a  mountain, 
and  had  shut  him  up  in  a  cave  on  the  summit.  He 
had  chanced  to  look  up,  he  told  them,  and  was 
astonished  to  see  that  the  valley  had  been  spanned 
by  an  immense  chain,  hung  from  one  mountain  to 
its  opposite,  and  that  a  fierce-looking  creature  was 
seated  in  the  sag  of  it,  swinging  in  a  way  to  make 
one's  head  swim,  for  he  flew  a  mile  back  and  forth 

2Q2 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

at  every  rise  and  fall.  Realizing  that  this  could  be 
none  other  than  the  devil,  the  priest  plucked  his 
cross  from  a  fold  of  his  robe  and  held  it  toward  the 
evil  one  ;  for  there  is  nothing  that  so  affrights  the 
fiend  as  the  holy  cross.  And,  truly,  no  sooner 
had  he  seen  it  than,  with  a  howl  of  dismay,  he 
ceased  his  sport  and  scrambled  along  the  chain  to 
one  of  its  holds,  tugged  at  it  until  the  ends  gave 
way,  and  fled  up  the  height,  dragging  the  two  or 
three  hundred  tons  of  iron  after  him  with  a  pro- 
digious rattling. 

The  priest  was  close  upon  him,  still  holding  the 
cross  on  high,  when  the  devil,  in  a  final  effort  at 
escape,  rushed  into  the  cave,  still  drawing  his 
chain.  As  it  was  disappearing  the  pursuer  touched 
it  with  his  cross  and  the  last  link  fell  off.  Then, 
with  a  cry  of  joy  that  he  had  so  easily  overcome 
the  fiend,  he  planted  the  cross  at  the  cave's  mouth, 
thus  making  him  prisoner,  if  not  forever,  at  least  so 
long  as  the  emblem  should  be  kept  whole,  and  re- 
placed when  it  decayed.  Yet,  to  make  more  sure, 
he  would  have  the  people  build  a  chapel  there,  and 
he  asked  them  to  follow  him  to  the  mountain-top, 
that  they  might  know  his  story  to  be  true.  Keep- 
ing close  together,  with  some  fondness  for  being 
in  the  rear,  the  Ojinajans  made  the  ascent,  and 
were  struck  into  a  great  trepidation  when  they 
heard  the  undoubted  clank  of  metal  within  the 
cave.  The  priest  bade  them  be  of  courage,  to 
embrace  the  faith  immediately,  and  help  him  to 

293 


Myths  and  Legends 

erect  a  shrine  before  the  cavern  that  should  secure 
them  against  further  evil.  This  they  did,  and  the 
chapel  still  stands  on  the  peak  of  Ojinaja.  The 
missing  link  from  the  devil's  chain  is  preserved 
there  among  its  relics,  and  every  year,  on  the  night 
of  January  25,  the  natives  climb  to  the  little 
church,  give  thanks  to  God  for  their  preservation, 
and  feed  bonfires  on  both  sides  of  the  valley,  to 
express  their  joy  in  this  escape. 

THE   ALLIGATOR-TREE 

WHAT  the  English  call  the  alligator-tree, 
that  grows  on  the  Tehuantepec  isthmus, 
is  known  to  the  natives  as  the  "  alligator's  tail." 
It  affords  a  wood  that  promises  to  be  of  value  in 
the  building  arts,  and  its  rough,  thorny  bark  sug- 
gests the  skin  of  the  lizard  whose  name  it  takes. 
In  days  of  old  the  alligator  was  more  respected 
than  now,  but  for  a  different  reason.  It  was  be- 
cause he  was  wise.  He  was  represented  in  stone, 
clay,  and  wood,  was  painted  on  walls,  and  princes 
bowed  before  him.  He  became  vastly  proud  of 
this  distinction,  and  began  to  put  on  airs  about  it. 
Among  the  beliefs  in  his  family  was  that  of  its 
need  to  live  among  the  rivers.  Salt  water  and 
cold  water  meant  death.  But  the  younger  mem- 
bers of  the  tribe  were  discontented.  They  sniffed 
at  the  axioms  of  the  fathers,  and  scorned  the  notion 
that  they    were    to   stay   in    one   country   forever. 

294 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

They  would  travel  and  learn.  They  had  heard 
men  talking  of  the  land  beyond  the  mountains, 
where  great  cities  were,  of  a  sea  that  spread  to  the 
world's  edge,  of  alligators  larger  and  wiser  than 
those  of  the  Gulf  side ;  so  they  held  a  meeting  in 
the  deepest  and  darkest  forest  on  the  Coatzacoalcos 
River  and  derided  their  elders  for  superstitious  old 
fossils,  and  resolved  to  be  at  least  as  free  as  men 
were.  "  Those  queer  little  creatures,  with  only 
two  legs,  thin  skins,  and  no  teeth  to  speak  of,  who 
cannot  stay  a  minute  under  water,  nor  go  for  two 
days  without  food — they  travel  where  they  like, 
and  why,  therefore,  should  not  we  ?  Their  gods 
are  surely  their  betters,  and  the  whole  earth  should 
be  ours." 

This  speech,  by  one  of  the  party,  was  instantly 
approved,  and  soon  after  a  crowd  of  young  alli- 
gators, several  hundred  in  number,  began  the 
passage  of  the  mountains.  They  ascended  the 
Coatzacoalcos  through  the  night,  coming  into  an 
open  country  near  the  hills  just  as  the  sun  was 
rising.  Great  was  the  surprise  of  all  to  find  that 
the  river  was  coming  to  an  end,  for  they  had  sup- 
posed that  they  could  cross  to  the  Pacific  without 
walking  on  dry  ground.  What  excited  their  alarm, 
also,  was  the  chill.  The  water  grew  so  cold  as 
they  ascended  that  they  could  finally  bear  it  no 
longer,  but  climbed  upon  the  bank,  where  the  sun 
fell  warm  upon  them,  and  fell  asleep.  At  nightfall 
came  a  god  of  the  hills.     "  What  are  these  mon- 

295 


Myths  and  Legends 

sters  doing  in  my  country  ?"  he  cried.  M  Have  I 
not  warned  all  creatures  of  the  coast  to  keep  to 
their  own  kingdom  ?  Up  with  you,  spirits  of  the 
springs,  and  help  me  to  punish  these  fellows. " 

Then  came  the  water  elves  capering  down  the 
hill-sides,  curling  and  fawning  about  his  feet, 
making  a  gurgling  laughter  as  they  thought  of  the 
surprise  in  store  for  the  alligators.  They  whirled 
about  and  about  until  each  had  bored  a  hole  two  or 
three  feet  deep  in  the  earth ;  then  they  seized  the 
sleeping  reptiles,  and  plunged  them,  head  first,  into 
the  holes,  with  their  tails  in  the  air,  and  there  they 
are,  at  the  edge  of  the  tier  r  a  temp  la  da,  to  this  day. 
One  alligator,  who  had  hidden  in  the  wood  when 
the  water  sprites  came  down,  escaped  and  swam 
down  the  river  to  his  old  home,  where  he  told  the 
sorrowing  parents  of  the  fate  that  had  come  upon 
the  youngsters  in  punishment  of  their  rashness,  and 
the  elders  mourned,  but  vainly.  Never  since  then 
have  the  alligators  tried  their  fortunes  out  of  the 
warm  coast  lands  and  waters. 

EVIL  SPIRITS  IN  THE  SPRINGS 

ATZCAPOTZALCO,  near  Mexico  City,  is 
renowned  for  two  springs  and  somewhat 
feared  because  of  them.  The  first,  near  the  ruined 
Zancopinca  aqueduct,  is  an  innocent-looking  pond 
of  sweet  water ;  but  beware,  especially  if  you 
hear  singing ;  for  down  beneath  it  is  the  palace  of 

296 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

rock-crystal  where  the  dreaded  Malinche  lives 
during  a  half  of  each  day.  During  the  other  half 
she  is  in  her  spring  at  Chapultepec.  Forbidding, 
even  fiendish,  in  her  disposition  in  Atzcapotzalco, 
she  is  angelic  in  Chapultepec.  This  is  probably 
because  she  adheres  to  the  old  gods  of  the  nation 
that  linger  about  the  battle  hill,  while  the  nearness 
of  Christian  shrines  and  blessings  in  the  other 
home  arouses  every  fell  instinct  in  her  nature. 
She  spends  her  days  in  Chapultepec  and  her  nights 
in  the  Zancopinca  pool.  At  early  morning  and 
in  the  evening  she  sings,  and  her  voice  bubbles 
through  the  cool,  clear  flood  in  wondrous  melody. 
Christian,  if  you  are  one,  be  careful  as  you  ap- 
proach the  edge.  Down  there  the  moving  reflec- 
tions of  the  sky  resolve  themselves  into  a  lovely 
form,  a  face  with  star  eyes,  hair  like  the  finest 
water  moss.  Put  your  hands  upon  your  ears,  hurry 
off  and  say  your  prayers ;  for  if  you  stay  the  song 
will  dull  your  sense  like  wine,  a  languor  will  en- 
chain you  and  delude  you  with  dreams.  You  will 
bend  over  farther  and  farther,  the  face  will  smile 
up  at  you,  the  graceful  arms  invite  you,  the  buried 
treasure  of  Guatamotzin,  that  Cortez  could  not 
win,  though  he  put  its  owner  on  the  rack,  will 
glitter  behind  the  figure,  and  it  is  all  yours,  nymph, 
palace,  treasure,  all.  You  plunge  forward.  The 
arms  enfold  you,  and  it  grows  dark.  Christian  in- 
truder in  the  Aztec  land,  have  you  won  joy,  or 
death  ? 

297 


Myths  and  Legends 

In  another  direction  you  come  upon  a  grove  of 
large  ahuehuetes  surrounding  a  space  where  a  fount 
once  brimmed  its  basin, — brimmed,  and  never  over- 
flowed. It  was  so  cool  and  pure,  that  spring,  that 
in  the  warmth  of  mid-day  the  stranger  coming 
upon  it  was  moved  to  fall  to  his  knees,  bury  his 
face  below  the  surface  and  cool  his  dry  throat  with 
a  long  draught.  Hapless  mortal  if  he  did  so,  for  this 
spot,  too,  was  inhabited  by  a  spirit  as  dangerous  as 
the  Malinche,  and  at  the  first  sip  the  drinker  dis- 
appeared, nor  ever  again  returned  to  the  air  in  the 
sight  of  men.  One  day  a  procession  of  priests 
emerged  from  the  church,  not  far  away,  carrying 
the  Virgin's  image  and  chanting  solemnly.  They 
walked  up  the  road  as  far  as  the  spring,  set  up  an 
altar  for  the  statue  beside  it,  one  of  their  number 
mounted  its  step  and  preached  against  the  wicked- 
ness of  the  water  sprite,  then  all  threw  in  stones 
and  earth  until  the  basin  was  filled,  and  a  chapel 
was  presently  built  above  it  to  keep  the  water 
down.  In  time  the  chapel  crumbled  away,  and 
the  spring  may  yet  be  free  again  ;  for,  if  you  listen, 
you  may  hear  it,  deep  down,  laughing  softly  to 
itself.  It  is  as  much  alive  as  ever,  and  who 
knows ? 


298 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

DEVILS   AND   DOUBLOONS 

DEVILS  and  doubloons  have  been  perplexingly 
associated  for  more  than  two  centuries  among 
the  West  Indies  and  neighboring  coasts.  Often 
the  devils  guarded  the  doubloons  out  of  fondness 
for  the  pirates  who  had  hidden  them,  and  some- 
times the  pirates  were  pretty  good  imitations  of 
devils  themselves.  Wherever  there  is  wealth  sin 
is  not  far.  The  love  of  money  is  a  root  of  several 
evils.  How  many  shaggy  creatures  have  been 
marooned  on  the  sand  keys  from  the  Carolinas 
southward,  how  many  have  been  killed  there  in 
wrangles  over  the  division  of  treasure,  and  how 
much  treasure  was  unearthed  during  the  absence  of 
its  winners  in  distant  ports,  can  never  be  guessed, 
but  the  memory  of  these  crimes  and  burials  haunts 
thousands  of  miles  of  shore.  Very  likely  it  was 
the  discovery  of  so  strange  a  race  as  the  Indians 
that  forced  the  first  explorers  into  a  belief  that  the 
New  World  was  filled  with  devils,  yet  even  remote 
and  lonely  places,  without  mortal  inhabitants,  were 
so  peopled.  The  Bermudas,  for  example,  were 
regarded  as  inaccessible,  darkened  by  terrors,  and 
were  known  as  the  Devils'  Islands.  They  be- 
longed to  Ferdinand  Camelo,  a  Portuguese,  who 
merely  put  his  initials  on  a  cliff,  together  with  a 
cross,  the  one  to  keep  the  English  off,  the  other  to 
frighten  away  the  imps.  He  may  have  succeeded 
with  the  imps,  but  an  English  ship  went  ashore  on 

299 


Myths  and  Legends 

one  of  Camelo's   islands,   and — well,   pretty   soon 
the  English  owned  them  all. 

To  our  own  day  strange  things  inhabit  the  tropi- 
cal belt  of  the  Westejn  world.  Jamaica  lias  its 
"  duppies"  and  "  rolling  calves,"  that  prank  around 
in  the  night,  pestering  poor  negroes.  Porto  Rico 
was  one  of  the  islands  on  which  the  prophecy  was 
given,  before  the  coming  of  Columbus,  of  "  ruin 
and  desolation  by  the  arrival  of  strangers,  com- 
pletely clad,  and  armed  with  the  lightning  of 
heaven."  Days  were  set  for  solemn  dances  and 
lamentations,  in  a  hope  of  deferring  the  dreadful 
time,  and  these  ceremonies  lasted  into  the  years  of 
white  ownership,  for  other  devils  than  the  white 
ones  had  also  been  discovered.  Mugeres  Island, 
off  British  Honduras,  has  had  its  devils  in  the 
flesh  and  out  of  it,  for  it  has  a  typical  buried- 
treasure  story  :  Pirates  went  ashore  there  in  the 
last  century  with  the  sack  of  a  coast  town,  includ- 
ing coin,  communion  cups,  and  bishop's  jewels, 
which  they  had  sealed  in  large  lead  boxes.  These 
chests  were  lowered  into  a  pit  at  the  north  end  of 
the  island,  sixty  steps  from  water,  and  covered 
with  tarpaulin.  The  captain  asked  for  volunteers 
to  guard  them,  and  two  negroes  of  the  crew  stepped 
forward,  thinking  to  live  there  pleasantly,  without 
work,  and  perchance  to  rob  the  robbers  as  soon  as 
the  ship  was  out  of  sight.  Mistaken  fellows  ! 
They  did  not  know  the  traditions  of  their  trade. 
The  captain  pulled  out  his  pistols  and  shot  them 

300 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

dead.  Their  bodies  were  thrown  upon  the  tar- 
paulin, then  covered  with  sand,  the  captain  saying 
that  they  would  care  for  the  treasure  better  dead 
than  alive,  for  their  ghosts  would  drive  away  in- 
truders, and,  beside,  any  one  finding  bones  would 
dig  no  farther.  This  treasure  can  be  taken  up 
only  by  the  one  for  whom  fate  intends  it.  The 
watchful,  jealous  people  of  the  island,  who  still 
hope  to  find  it  themselves,  say  they  will  kill  any 
other.     Do  you  wish  to  try  your  luck  ? 

INCIDENTS   OF   WAR 

IN  reading  the  history  of  South  America  it 
seems  as  if  its  normal  state  for  three  cen- 
turies had  been  that  of  war.  Originally  the  peo- 
ple were  lovers  of  peace.  Such  were  the  thirty 
million  Inca  Indians  to  whom  Manco  Capac,  son 
of  the  Sun,  preached  gentleness  and  justice  on  the 
bank  of  Lake  Titicaca,  for  whom  he  built  roads 
like  those  of  the  Romans,  one  of  them  extending 
from  Cuzco  to  Quito,  almost  two  thousand  miles, 
and  for  whom  he  erected  a  temple  of  the  sun  with 
its  roof  of  seven  hundred  gold  plates,  each  of  them 
a  burden  for  four  men.  Among  these  people — the 
first  successful  communists — Pizarro  and  his  Span- 
iards wrought  havoc.  Though  teaching  Chris- 
tianity and  promising  rewards  after  death  for  an 
intolerable  patience  in  this  life,  the  invaders  were 
false  to  every  tenet  of  their  own  faith,  for  they 

301 


Myths  and  Legends 

robbed,  enslaved,  tortured,  and  slew  the  natives,  and 
showed  them  easy  ways  to  self-destruction  through 
sins  and  vices.  Greatest  of  these  vices  was  war. 
Uneducated,  priest-ridden,  swindled,  and  oppressed, 
the  people  arose  from  time  to  time,  yet  never  won 
a  real  or  lasting  liberty.  The  arts  found  meagre 
expression,  industries  never  became  important, 
road-building  lapsed  into  a  forgotten  art,  and  caste, 
implanted  by  the  Spaniards,  was  inherited  by  the 
republics.  Revolutions  were  not  accomplished  bv 
votes,  but  by  the  sword.  The  idol  of  one  decade 
was  in  the  next  the  prisoner,  the  fugitive,  the  sui- 
cide. Victories  were  celebrated  by  pillage  and 
massacre.  The  policy  toward  the  purely  Indian 
tribes  was  destructive.  When  Mendoza  marched 
against  the  Araucanians — those  fierce  soldiers,  who 
took  nightly  courage  from  the  heavens,  for  they  be- 
lieved that  the  stars  were  their  dead  but  still  con- 
quering brothers — he  defeated,  but  could  never 
subdue  them.  He  gathered  a  large  company  of 
these  Indians  into  his  fort  by  making  them  believe 
his  men  to  be  asleep  and  at  their  mercy  ;  then, 
closing  his  gates,  he  fell  upon  and  killed  them 
every  one.  Their  chief,  Caupolican,  being  cap- 
tured alive,  was  solemnly  and  benignantly  baptized, 
then  flung  upon  sharp  spikes  and  there  allowed  to 
die. 

Barbarous,  inexcusable  as  many  of  these  wars 
have  been,  they  seem  to  have  tended  toward  a 
higher  liberty  and  a  sounder,  if  more  boastful,  na- 

302 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

tional  strength.  They  have  developed  heroes  and 
heroic  attributes,  and  they  have  abolished  crowns 
from  the  Western  hemisphere.  Among  the  inci- 
dents of  battle  that  one  contemplates  with  a  more 
admiring  disposition  than  is  inspired  by  the  usual 
savagery  is  the  exploit  of  General  Pringle  at  Chan- 
cai.  The  war  for  Peruvian  liberation  was  desper- 
ately waged,  and  no  fighters  were  more  stern  than 
the  troops  from  the  Argentine,  some  of  them  of  Eng- 
lish descent,  who  had  climbed  over  the  Andes  and 
come  up  from  the  Chilian  cities  in  ships  to  engage 
the  Spaniards.  At  Chancai,  where  the  rebel  army 
was  outnumbered  ten  to  one,  the  defeat  was  total, 
yet  the  battle  was  fought  so  stoutly  that  of  all  the 
Argentines  but  three  were  left  uncaptured  and  un- 
hurt. One  of  these  was  Pringle,  who,  crying  to 
his  companions,  "  We  will  not  be  taken ;  follow 
me  !"  rode  along  the  sea-wall  until  he  reached  deep 
water,  then  leaped  in,  heading  the  horses  toward 
a  beach.  The  click  of  locks  sounded  along  the 
Spanish  line,  and  fifty  muskets  covered  them  ;  but 
before  trigger  could  be  drawn,  the  Spanish  general, 
Alvarado,  cried  to  his  men,  "  Stop  !  Not  another 
shot !  These  men  are  soldiers  worthy  the  name. 
Their  courage  shall  be  respected."  Then,  calling 
to  the  horsemen,  he  told  them  they  might  return 
in  safety  and  leave  the  field  unchallenged.  The 
Argentines  gained  a  landing-place,  and,  with  a  salute 
and  a  cheer  on  either  side,  they  dashed  away. 
They  had  gained  a  victory  in  defeat. 

303 


Myths  and  Legends 

GAMBLING   AWAY   THE   SUN 

THE  disk  of  solid  gold  that  represented  the 
sun  in  the  temple  of  Cuzco  fell  to  one  of 
Pizarro's  scallawags,  Mancio  Sierra  Lejesama,  in  a 
division  of  Peruvian  spoil.  It  could  be  melted 
into  doubloons  enough  to  keep  the  wight  in  wine 
and  bad  company  for  ten  years,  if  he  could  prevent 
his  throat  from  being  slit  that  long,  and  for  a  while 
he  seriously  thought  of  cutting  away  from  his  ruf- 
fling associates  and  returning  to  Spain  to  enjoy  life 
as  a  guzzling  libertine,  and  possibly  to  wear  a  title. 
But  his  old  ways  were  too  strong  upon  him.  He 
had  been  a  gambler,  and  a  gambler  he  was  still. 
Could  he  play  but  one  more  winning  game  and 
get  some  of  his  comrades'  cups  and  rings  away 
from  them,  there  was  no  doubt  that  he  would  be 
able  to  live  without  work  for  the  rest  of  his  life. 
"  Come,  gentlemen,"  he  cried,  "  I  am  going  to 
give  you  the  greatest  chance  you  ever  had.  This 
time  it  is  no  beggarly  handful  of  yellow  boys  we'll 
toss  the  cards  for,  but  the  great  sun  of  Peru  itself. 
We  will  play  for  the  biggest  stake  in  history." 
The  game  was  long  and  earnest.  Lejesama  lost. 
He  arose  from  the  table  silent,  crushed,  convinced 
as  never  before  of  his  own  folly.  The  gold  was 
gone,  but  he  brought  out  of  his  meditations  what 
was  better,  a  chastened  spirit.  He  abandoned 
stealing  and  gaming,  took  an  Inca's  daughter  to 
wife,  worked  for  the  welfare  of  the  people  he  had 

304 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

injured,  and  left  behind  him,  as  a  token  of  his  re- 
form, a  history  of  and  tribute  to  the  Peruvians. 
One  of  his  sayings  lives  in  Spain  to  this  day.  It 
is,  •'  He  plays  the  sun  away  before  it  rises."  This 
means  that  a  person  is  an  incurable  spendthrift. 


HUASCAR'S  PROPHECY 

YEARS  had  gone  by  since  Huanya  Capac,  last 
of  the  Incas,  had  donned  the  jewelled  sash 
and  lifted  the  rainbow  banner  of  kingship.  The 
festivities  attending  his  enthronement  lasted  for 
many  days,  and  included  many  dances  in  the  Garden 
of  Delights  at  Yucay,  a  dozen  miles  from  Cuzco, 
where  sacred  birds  were  kept  among  flowers  of 
gold  and  silver  plate  and  leaves  of  emerald,  where 
nobles  bathed  in  tubs  of  gold,  and  where  dancing- 
girls  went  before  the  Inca,  strewing  fresh  blos- 
soms for  his  sandalled  feet.  Peace  and  plenty  were 
in  the  land,  but  their  end  was  near,  for  Pizarro 
and  his  prayer-pattering  rapscallions  were  on  their 
way  toward  the  new  world.  Huanya  Capac  had 
marched  to  Quito, — the  city  where  the  invading 
Caras,  descending  the  River  of  the  Emeralds  in 
the  year  iooo,  had  built  great  temples  to  the  sun 
and  moon,  the  one  with  its  disk  of  gold  flashing 
reflections  on  the  priests,  the  other  with  its  plaque 
of  silver  that  repeated  the  beams  of  the  rising 
moon.  Here  the  last  of  the  Incas  worshipped,  and 
here  the  people  worshipped  him.  At  the  end  of 
20  3°5 


Myths  and  Legends 

his  reign  he  left  the  empire,  not  to  the  true  heir, 
Huascar,  but  to  him  jointly  with  his  brother, 
Atahualpa.  It  was  soon  evident  that  no  throne  is 
large  enough  for  two.  The  brothers  quarrelled, 
and  Atahualpa,  being  the  stronger  and  more  am- 
bitious, soon  gained  the  ascendency  over  Huascar, 
who  was  a  man  of  gentle  nature.  Then  came  the 
Spaniards,  who  robbed  the  Incas  of  everything 
except  their  title,  which  they  would  allow  only 
one  of  them  to  wear.  The  wicked  brother  saw 
that  the  kingship  was  slipping  from  his  grasp.  He 
resolved  to  hold  it  at  the  cost  of  crime.  His  re- 
tainers seized  Huascar  and  drowned  him  in  the 
Andamarca.  Before  he  was  cast  into  the  river 
Huascar  cried  to  his  tyrant  brother,  who  stood 
scowling  on  the  bank,  "  What  you  do  to  me  the 
white  man  will  do  to  you.  He  will  soon  avenge 
me." 

Not  long  afterward  Pizarro  had  imprisoned 
Atahualpa,  in  spite  of  his  many  friendly  services. 
"  Let  me  go,"  begged  the  king,  "  and  I  will  cover 
the  floor  of  this  cell  with  gold." 

Pizarro  shook  his  head. 

•'  Let  me  go,  and  I  will  fill  this  cell  with  golden 
vessels,  as  high  as  I  can  reach." 

"  That  is  well.  You  shall  have  your  liberty 
when  your  people  have  brought  the  gold." 

It  took  a  long  time  to  collect  such  a  quantity  of 
treasure.  Pizarro  took  it  as  fast  as  it  came  in  ; 
then,  alleging  that  his  prisoner  had  plotted  against 

306 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

him,  he  condemned  him  to  die  at  the  stake  in  the 
square  of  Caxamalca.  As  a  concession  to  morality, 
the  victim  was  urged  to  become  a  Christian,  and 
as  a  reward  for  changing  his  faith  was  told  that  he 
might  enjoy  a  death  by  strangling  instead  of  burn- 
ing. The  Inca  allowed  himself  to  be  baptized, 
and  after  passing  from  the  hands  of  the  priests  to 
those  of  the  garroter  he  became  a  public  show  in 
death.  Then  a  requiem  mass  was  sung  for  him. 
During  the  service  the  people  rushed  into  the 
church,  that  they  might  be  killed  at  his  side  by  the 
Spaniards,  and  so  reach  the  sun  in  his  company. 
But  death  was  waiting  for  a  third  one  of  the  actors 
in  this  tragedy,  and  it  came  swiftly.  Jealous  of 
the  master  thief,  some  of  his  followers  broke  into 
the  house  of  Pizarro,  and  although  he  mortally 
wounded  one,  he  had  his  own  quietus  at  the  in- 
stant. With  finger  dipped  in  his  own  blood  the 
bravo  wrote  the  word  "Jesus"  on  the  floor,  and 
died  as  he  tried  to  kiss  it.  Not  one  human  being 
remained  in  that  house  to  mourn. 

THE  MEDAL  AND  THE  ORCHID 

THOSE  who  have  lived  among  the  natives  of 
South  America  say  that  they  are  a  finer 
people,  morally  and  mentally,  than  their  northern 
cousins.  Their  life  is  under  less  stress,  therefore 
less  heroic,  than  that  of  the  Sioux  and  others  who 
obtain  their  subsistence  by  the  hunt  on  the  wide, 

3°7 


Myths  and  Legends 

cold  plains,  and  they  come  from  a  stock  that  was 
more  than  half  civilized,  enjoying,  therefore,  a 
heritage  of  refinement  and  intelligence.  When 
Europe  awoke  to  the  beauty  of  the  orchid,  seekers 
for  this  strange  plant  of  the  air  began  to  invade  the 
forests  of  the  Amazon,  for  rare  strains  of  it  com- 
manded little  fortunes  from  rich  amateurs.  Among 
these  hunters  was  a  French  botanist,  Pierre  de 
Vert,  a  young  man  who  had  given  his  life  to  study. 
He  was  retiring,  sensitive,  and  religious,  as  those 
are  apt  to  be  who  spend  their  years  in  the  company 
of  woods  and  mountains,  and  to  him  an  orchid  was 
not  merely  a  flower :  it  was  a  problem,  a  mystery, 
a  symbol. 

A  Paris  nobleman  had  offered  a  prize  for  the  most 
beautiful  flower  that  could  be  found  for  the  Easter 
festival,  and  knowing  Pierre's  love  for  orchids  he 
gave  him  money  for  a  trip  to  Guiana,  together  with 
a  medal  which  the  Pope  had  blessed  and  which 
in  case  of  a  pecuniary  strait  would  assure  his  re- 
turn to  France,  for  its  gold  value  was  five  hun- 
dred francs.  Landing  in  Cayenne,  Pierre  set  off  at 
once  for  Mount  Roraima,  of  which  fabulous  tales 
had  reached  his  ears,  and,  careless  of  malaria,  of 
tormenting  insects,  of  wild  beasts,  of  loathsome 
snakes,  he  reached  the  highlands  where  he  hoped 
to  find  the  largest  and  most  striking  of  the  orchids. 
During  his  search  he  stumbled  on  the  habitations 
of  a  rude  hill  tribe  of  savages.  They  were  un- 
able to  understand  why  he  had  come  among  them  ; 

308 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

they  had  suffered  from  the  treachery  and  miscon- 
duct of  the  whites  ;  they  disbelieved  him  when  he 
said  that  he  had  travelled  all  the  way  from  the 
farther  shore  of  the  great  water  to  seek  flowers, 
because  flowers  could  be  had  in  any  place  :  so  they 
took  him  prisoner,  and  the  unrestrained  clamored 
to  have  him  roasted.  They  searched  his  pockets 
and  took  his  money.  They  had  seen  enough  of 
white  men  to  know  how  many  vices  could  be  in- 
dulged with  gold.  "  Is  this  all  ?"  asked  the  chief, 
holding  the  coins  before  him. 

Pierre  was  about  to  answer,  "  Yes,"  but  as  he 
placed  his  hand  on  his  heart  he  felt  the  medal 
there.     He  could  not  lie. 

"  All  ?"  repeated  the  Indian. 

Pierre  bit  his  lip  and  looked  into  the  sky.  It 
was  hard  to  be  robbed  of  every  coin,  and  have  to 
give  up  his  medal  also. 

"  All  ?"  demanded  the  chief  again. 

Pierre  shook  his  head,  parted  his  clothing  at  the 
throat,  and  revealed  the  medal. 

"  The  lad  will  not  lie,  yet  he  is  white  !"  ex- 
claimed one  of  his  captors,  in  astonishment. 

"  It  is  his  soul  that  is  white,"  declared  another. 

The  people  would  not  touch  the  medal.  Pierre 
had  won  them.  They  made  a  bed  of  fragrant 
leaves  for  him,  and  he  slept  unguarded  until  the 
call  of  birds  aroused  him  in  the  morning.  When 
the  Indians  had  shared  their  meal  with  him  they 
gave  back  the  money  they  had  taken.     "  You  are 

3°9 


Myths  and  Legends 

good,"  they  said.     "  You  do  not  deceive.     Keep 
your  coins  and  rest,  and  we  will  help  you." 

The  people  dispersed,  and  did  not  return  until 
night.  When  they  came  back  they  were  laden 
with  the  strangest  and  most  exquisite  blossoms, 
whose  heavy  perfume  was  almost  overpowering. 
One  of  these  was  of  remarkable  size  and  color,  and 
that  one,  Pierre  knew,  would  win  the  prize.  He 
detached  the  plant  from  the  tree  to  which  it  had 
fastened,  and  some  weeks  afterward  it  bloomed  in 
Notre  Dame.  The  wonder  and  admiration  of  the 
people  were  almost  reward  enough  for  his  toil  and 
hardship.  With  the  money  he  received  as  a  prize 
he  returned  to  Guiana  and  taught  the  gospel  to  the 
Indians. 

THE   HONEST   MULETEERS 

ROUGH  and  ignorant  as  are  some  of  the  moun- 
tain men,  honesty  is  no  rare  virtue.  Old 
Jose  of  Coquimbo  had  been  guide,  freighter,  and 
messenger  across  the  Cordilleras  since  boyhood, 
and  the  priest  was  not  more  surely  trusted  than  he. 
The  mines  had  been  worked  as  never  before  one 
summer,  and  there  were  many  laborers  up  there  in 
the  mountains  awaiting  their  pay.  "  It  will  be  a 
heavy  bag  for  you  to  carry  this  time,  friend  Jose," 
said  the  superintendent.  "  I  am  putting  two  hun- 
dred gold  doubloons  in  your  charge." 
"  They  shall  be  safe  with  me,  senor." 
310 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

"  I  know  it,  Jose.  To  hide  it  the  better  we 
will  put  half  the  weight  at  one  end  of  the  bag  and 
half  at  the  other,  for  we  can  tie  the  mouth  of  it 
secure.  Now,  put  it  across  your  mule's  back,  under 
the  saddle  and  the  blanket,  so  it  shall  not  be  seen, 
then  wear  your  longest  poncho,  and  I'll  warrant 
there'll  be  no  danger." 

Three  thousand  dollars  in  gold  is  not  so  great  a 
burden,  yet  it  is  not  a  thing  to  exhibit  to  the  covet- 
ous and  lawless ;  so  the  best  place  for  it  was  under 
the  saddle,  no  doubt.  Jose  rode  away  toward  the 
snowy  peaks ;  he  reached  the  desert  at  the  rise  of 
the  moon  and  rode  on,  enjoying  the  vastness,  the 
silence,  and  the  stars  until  his  mule  began  to  go 
heavily.  "  Anita,  girl,  we're  not  so  light  on  this 
trip  as  usual,  eh  ?  Come,  then.  We'll  rest.  There's 
no  forage  for  you  but  this  handful  of  oats,  and  no 
water  till  we  reach  the  hills,  but  you  shall  sleep. 
Only,  you  must  wear  the  saddle  this  time,  for 
there's  something  under  it — aha  ! — something  to 
make  the  eyes  of  the  peons  sparkle  when  they  shall 
see  it."  He  put  his  hand  under  the  saddle.  Yes, 
the  doubloons  on  the  right  side  were  safe.  He 
went  around  to  the  other  side,  reached  up,  and — 
the  money  was  gone  !  The  string  had  untied,  and 
the  gold  had  been  spilt  among  the  desert  sands. 
Lost !  And  his  good  name !  Would  they  not 
believe  him  to  be  a  thief?  Or,  if  they  thought 
him  honest,  would  they  ever  trust  money  to  him 
again  ?     His   heart   sank   until   he  felt  a   sickness, 

3n 


Myths  and  Legends 

Nothing  could  be  done  until  day,  and  he  would 
spend  the  rest  of  the  night  praying  that  he  might 
find  the  missing  gold.  With  the  rise  of  the  sun 
he  started  back  afoot,  leading  his  mule  and  exam- 
ining every  foot  of  the  way.  He  had  gone  only 
two  or  three  miles  when  a  cloud  of  dust  appeared 
away  out  on  the  plain.  It  drew  nearer.  It  was  a 
pack-train  with  ten  drivers.  He  knew  them  all, 
for  they  had  been  his  pupils  in  the  business, — true- 
hearted  lads  every  one.  They  were  laughing  and 
calling.  "They  would  not  laugh  if  they  knew 
how  ashamed  and  miserable  I  am,"  he  said. 

"  Ho,  friend  Jose,"  called  the  first,  as  he  galloped 
up  to  the  old  man,  "  why  are  you  pulling  so 
long  a  face  ?" 

"  I  have  lost  half  a  bag  of  doubloons,  and  my 
reputation,  and  my  peace  of  mind." 

"  I  cannot  return  the  peace  of  mind,  but  here 
are  ten  of  the  doubloons.  I  found  them  in  the 
sand." 

"  Thanks  to  God.  My  sorrow  is  by  so  much 
the  less." 

Then  came  the  second  muleteer.  "  Father 
Jose,"  he  cried,  "  what  is  lacking  with  you  ?" 

"  Ninety  doubloons,"  said  Jose. 

"  Tut !     It  is  only  eighty,  for  here  are  ten." 

Then  followed  Domingo  and  Carlos  and  the 
rest,  each  with  his  question  and  his  ten  coins,  until 
the  last,  who  had  but  nine, — for  so  they  had  divided 
the  treasure.     The  missing  piece  had  been  trodden 

312 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

into  the  sand  and  lost.  Between  them  all  they 
made  up  the  hundredth  doubloon.  Jose  went  to 
his  knees,  and  with  wet  eyes  raised  toward  the  sky 
he  thanked  God  that  his  prayer  had  been  heard, 
that  neither  the  treasure  nor  his  honor  had  been 
lost.  The  bag  was  now  so  tied  and  sewed  and 
twisted  that  its  contents  could  not  possibly  be 
spilled  again  ;  then,  with  lightened  heart,  Jose  rode 
on  at  the  head  of  the  train,  singing.  "  Boys,"  he 
said,  after  a  time,  "  I  taught  you  to  ride,  to  swim, 
to  ford,  to  pack,  to  make  camp,  to  splice  and  hitch, 
and  all  the  rest  of  it ;  but  I've  got  my  reward  now 
when  I  find  that  all  of  you  are  honest." 

AIGUERRE'S    FIRE 

IN  the  times  when  Indians  lived  in  villages  built 
on  stilts  in  Lake  Maracaibo,  thus  gaining  for 
their  province  the  name  of  Venezuela  (Little 
Venice),  there  was  a  farol  that  hung  about  the 
southern  end  of  that  sheet  of  water.  This  "  lan- 
tern" appeared  to  shine  through  a  pale  mist  and 
often  affrighted  the  people.  It  has  been  seen  in 
our  own  day,  and  ascribed  to  malignant  spirits. 
But  the  water  flames  are  less  malignant  than  the 
land  fire.  If  any  fortune  sets  you  down  on  the 
Venezuelan  plains,  beware  the  ghost  of  Aiguerre. 
Bitterly  has  he  suffered  whose  purgatory  is  the 
pampas,  but  he  tries  to  make  others  suffer  not  less 
bitterly.     Lope  de  Aiguerre,  who  discovered  the 

in 


Myths  and  Legends 

upper  Amazon,  was,  like  too  many  of  the  ex- 
plorers from  his  country  and  of  his  day,  a  harsh 
oppressor,  a  greedy  seeker  after  others'  wealth. 
On  his  appointment  as  governor  of  this  southern 
country  he  bent  all  public  interests  to  his  own  ad- 
vantage, tyrannizing  over  the  whites  as  savagely  as 
over  the  Indians.  He  had  the  hate  of  nearly  all 
men,  and  of  heaven,  too,  for  after  his  death  in 
these  wilds  his  soul  was  compelled  to  haunt  the 
plains,  appearing  to  the  lonely  cattlemen  as  the 
will-o'-the-wisp,  or  Aiguerre's  fire,  and  if  you 
draw  near  you  will  see,  with  horror,  that  in  the 
centre  of  the  flame  the  entrails  of  the  wretch  are 
burning.  No  native  in  his  sober  senses  will  go 
near.  He  knows  the  danger.  For  no  sooner  is 
such  a  follower  beyond  call  and  sight  of  his  com- 
panions than  he  falls  under  the  enchantment  of  the 
light.  He  forgets  time  and  space,  he  is  hypnotized, 
if  you  prefer,  and  rides  on  and  on,  until  presently 
he  finds  himself  at  the  brink  of  a  ravine  or  a 
morass  with  the  light  dancing  before  his  face,  red, 
confusing,  mocking.  Lucky  indeed  is  it  for  him 
if  he  can  pull  up  his  horse  or  bring  himself  to  a 
stop.  Too  commonly  he  pitches  into  the  abyss, 
or  sinks  into  the  marsh's  black  embrace,  and  if  his 
body  is  ever  found  it  is  buried  hastily,  for  the 
people  who  do  that  service  are  quick  to  get  away 
from  a  spot  that  has  been  cursed  by  another  of  the 
tragedies  of  Aiguerre. 


3H 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

THE   AMAZONS 

CERTAIN  women  of  the  tribes  living  along 
the  Amazon  wear  beads  of  a  green  stone, 
possibly  jade  or  jadeite,  possibly  that  more  showy 
if  less  valuable  mineral,  Amazon  stone,  a  variety  of 
feldspar.  When  Cortez  landed  in  Mexico,  these 
stones,  which  were  from  hearsay  thought  to  be 
emeralds,  were  worn  by  the  Aztecs,  who  carved 
them  in  strange  and  symbolical  forms,  such  as  fish 
and  parrots'  heads.  These  ornaments  were  held 
in  great  esteem  by  the  natives,  who  valued  them 
more  than  gold.  Their  use  probably  spread  from 
Mexico  through  Peru  and  so  to  the  Brazils,  for  the 
women  who  now  wear  them  say  that  they  had 
them  from  the  first  owners  by  direct  inheritance, 
and  that  they  are  amulets  which  preserve  them  from 
many  ills.  Orellana,  who  first  ascended  the  Ama- 
zon, was  also  the  first  to  tell  of  the  existence  of  a 
tribe  of  female  warriors  in  the  great  wilderness  along 
its  banks.  Certain  of  the  Tupinambas  women  had 
sworn  an  oath  of  chastity,  agreeing  among  them- 
selves to  suffer  death  if  they  broke  the  compact. 
They  disdained  the  employments  of  other  women, 
rode  horseback  astride,  after  horses  had  been  in- 
troduced into  their  country,  and  lived  by  the  hunt, 
like  men.  They  were  expert  with  bow  and  spear, 
and  they  had  servants  to  cook  and  make  clothing 
for  them.  So  like  were  they  to  the  women  de- 
scribed by  Herodotus  as  living  in  Scythia  and  Libya 

315 


Myths  and  Legends 

that  it  was  natural  to  call  them  Amazons  :  hence 
the  river  along  which  they  fished  and  hunted  took 
that  name.  There  are  scholars,  it  is  true,  who 
declare  that  the  name  is  Amassona,  an  Indian  word 
meaning  boat-destroyer,  and  applied  to  the  terrible 
bore,  or  tide  avalanche,  that  is  encountered  at  full 
moon  on  the  lower  river.  The  fierce  creatures  of 
the  Tupinambas  shared  the  toil  and  peril  of  war 
with  the  men  of  their  tribe,  but  they  also  fought 
by  themselves,  battling  against  male  soldiers  of  the 
enemy  with  entire  fearlessness. 

BOLIVAR   AT   CARACAS 

NATURE  did  not  share  in  the  dulness  of 
Lent.  On  the  contrary,  she  was  full  of 
promise  for  Easter  joys.  Flowers  blazed  on  the 
lower  slopes  of  the  Andes,  and  bright  birds  flashed 
through  the  air.  Holy  Week  of  1812  was  nearly 
over ;  the  people  of  Caracas  were  preparing  to 
decorate  their  altars ;  their  gatherers  were  out  on 
the  hills,  collecting  orchids  and  cactus  blooms,  and 
all  was  tranquil  and  beautiful.  Two  men  walked 
apart  at  the  city's  edge,  one  of  them  tall,  dark, 
garbed  as  a  civilian,  the  other  short,  slight,  strong- 
faced,  suggesting,  in  his  uniform,  both  Jackson  and 
Napoleon.  They  were  speaking  of  the  progress 
made  by  the  people  in  the  fight  against  a  foreign 
and  monarchical  government.  Said  the  tall  man, 
"  Yet,  Simon  Bolivar,  there  are  times  when  I  fear. 

316 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

Of  late  we  often  have  smoke  and  dust  in  the  air, 
and  I  have  fancied  that  I  heard  faint  rumblings 
and  felt  an  ague  in  the  earth.  Suppose  the  masses 
should  be  told  by  some  fanatic  that  these  were  signs 
of  the  divine  wrath  against  our  cause  !" 

"  It  would  be  sad.  The  people  are  credulous. 
They  remember,  too,  that  Caracas  has  already  suf- 
fered from  the  anger  of  heaven,  as  some  of  them 
phrase  it.  We  are  walking  at  this  moment  in  the 
basin  of  a  lake  that  disappeared  in  a  night.  This 
city  may  be  swallowed  up  in  as  short  a  time.  But 
I  believe  that  the  just  cause  wins.  Whatever  hap- 
pens, liberty  will  be  ours." 

The  two  men  kept  for  some  time  in  earnest  talk, 
not  noticing  that  the  sky  was  becoming  overcast 
and  smoky,  that  the  sun  had  grown  red,  that  the 
day  had  lost  its  freshness  and  the  very  birds  were 
uneasy.  A  portent  seemed  to  be  in  the  air.  The 
mountains  were  fading.  The  silence  and  breath- 
lessness  had  become  intense.  Sharing  in  the  vague 
apprehension  that  began  to  possess  all  living  things, 
General  Bolivar  and  his  companion  started  back 
toward  the  centre  of  the  town.  As  he  was  recog- 
nized, the  people  cried,  "The  liberator!  The 
liberator  !"  His  strengthening  presence  gave  com- 
fort to  them.  In  the  churches  the  Lenten  music 
was  low  and  mournful,  and  in  the  dim  light  of 
their  candles  they  were  cavernous  and  full  of  mys- 
tery. Hark !  From  some  unguessed  place,  in  the 
sky  or  in  the  bowels  of  the  earth,  came  a  rumbling, 

3V 


Myths  and  Legends 

as  of  thunder.  Then,  silence,  in  which  creation 
held  its  breath  to  listen.  Some  of  the  people  left 
the  churches,  unable  to  endure  the  oppression  and 
suspense.  Bolivar  had  paused  at  the  cathedral 
door,  when,  with  groan  and  crash  and  grinding  of 
masonry,  the  earthquake  came.  Peaks  toppled, 
cliffs  broke  and  slid  to  their  bases,  the  sea  battered 
the  coast  in  stupendous  breakers,  the  air  darkened 
to  twilight,  towers  and  houses  fell,  flames  began  to 
rise  among  their  wrecks,  the  earth  cracked  and 
gaped  and  swallowed  people,  two  volcanoes  burst 
their  seal  of  centuries  and  belched  lava,  while 
roarings  and  boomings  added  to  the  terror.  The 
city  melted  like  wax  in  the  heat.  It  was  soon 
over.  Death  and  desolation  are  quickly  wrought. 
Twelve  thousand  people  were  killed.  Bolivar's 
heart  sank  as  he  looked  about  him  on  the  panic- 
stricken  survivors.  In  a  sort  of  childlike  helpless- 
ness they  turned  to  him,  standing  on  an  eminence 
of  ruin,  and  called  again,  "  Liberator  !  Liberator  !" 
He  clambered  down  to  them  and  urged  on  the 
work  of  rescue,  with  his  own  hands  dragging  blocks 
and  beams  from  groaning  victims,  wiping  dust  and 
mortar  from  eyes  that  stared  at  the  dusky  heavens, 
restoring  children  to  parents  and  binding  the  hurts 
of  the  wounded.  "  It  is  the  wrath  of  heaven," 
cried  one  white-faced  man.  "  God  is  against  us." 
"  Silence  !"  commanded  Bolivar.  "  To  say  that 
God  sides  with  the  tyrant  is  blasphemy.  Our  city 
is  destroyed,  but  not  our  freedom.      Neither  men 

3i8 


Beyond  Our  Borders 

nor  nature  can  avail  against  the  right.  Cities, 
governments,  may  fall,  but  justice,  brotherhood, — 
nothing  can  shake  them." 

"  It  is  true,"  cried  another.  "  Our  priests  are 
dead,  but  God  has  spared  our  leader,  Bolivar,  to 
march  with  us  to  victory." 

A  wan  gleam  of  the  sun,  piercing  the  dreadful 
canopy,  lighted  the  face  of  the  Liberator  with  a 
halo. 


THE    END 


319 


